Escalation
by TheLovethief
Summary: A new case requires the attention of the BAU. Soon Reid doesn't know who to trust anymore. Edited version.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Same story, less mistakes. I decided to check it for errors once more. I'm sure it's still a bit awkward in places. It's my first long CM fic and I had no beta reader at first. I hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless ;) /LT

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Escalation**

**Chapter 1 **

A screaming noise broke through the silence of the night. Spencer Reid's eyes snapped open immediately. Very still, hardly breathing he sat upright in his bed. Listening. Trying to see in the suffocating darkness of his bedroom. In vain. His brain, of course, was working, imagining. Long moments of deafening silence followed.

Then again the disturbing sound from the outside. This time Reid recognized what it was. Sighing he fell back on his pillow.

_Damn cats_, he thought. They were obviously having a little get-together on the street right under his window.

The agent dared a look at his clock. 3.42 am. Great. How he hated to wake up in the middle of the night. Reid had never been a big fan of the dark. _Because of the inherent absence of light_, was his usual explanation for this not very grown-up fear. A fear which had become even worse lately. And he knew exactly why. It was because of 'the problem'...

It had all started a week ago. After a long day at work he'd arrived at his apartment. When he'd checked his mail, mostly bills and even more annoying advertisement, a strange looking letter had caught his attention. The envelope had been red and there had only been his name written on it. Obviously it hadn't been delivered by the postman, but thrown into his mailbox by the writer himself. Curios, Reid had torn it open and had quickly let his gaze wander over the few lines. The short, typed message had made his heart race...

There had been no need for him to read the letter again. Thanks to his extraordinary memory Reid could still remember every single word. Sometimes his brain was a curse.

Very awake now, the profiler listened to the fighting – or maybe mating – cats outside and decided that he could as well use the unwanted state of consciousness to use the bathroom. What's done is done.

Slightly more relaxed, Reid was on his way back to the bedroom when his cell phone rang. A look at the display told him that it was Hotch calling. Which could only mean that there was work to do, another monster they needed to stop from killing more innocent people.

Heaving a sigh, Reid flipped his phone open and croaked a weak "Yeah?".

In fact he didn't feel overly sleepy at the moment, but after several hours without any conversation his voice wouldn't work properly yet.

"Reid, sorry to wake you up." The smooth voice of Aaron Hotchner. "We have a new case. Can you come in, please?" It wasn't really a question, but Reid appreciated the gentle politeness his boss managed even at this time of day - respectively night.

"I'm on my way," the young doctor replied with a now stronger voice. While putting on his clothes, he thought again about the mysterious letter he'd received a few days ago. The message was imprinted on his mind:

_Doctor Reid,_

_Vegas is ours. Stay out of this case. If you decide to use your brain to solve the puzzle, your mother will have to pay. It was Bennington, wasn't it? Hopefully you won't mind sharing a grave with your loony mom. This is not a joke. We are true to our word. Keep your head out of the case._

Reid didn't know what to make out of this. There was no case connected to Las Vegas. He told himself that it was probably a joke, regardless of the confirmation that is wasn't. Bad taste of humor, but definitely not to be taken serious.

Nonetheless it was nagging at him. To be threatened was one thing, but the person threatened to kill his mother. The thought alone was enough to send a shudder down his spine.

Maybe, Spencer thought, he should have told Hotch about the letter. But, no. He didn't want to appear like hysterical girl who just found a slaughtered guinea pig on her doorstep. And since there hadn't really happened anything, he didn't see a reason to do something about it.

Finally fully dressed, Reid decided to push those thoughts back in a far corner of his mind and headed towards work.

* * *

Due to his very save way to drive – a habit Morgan occasionally teased him about – Reid was the last one to arrive at the office. When he stepped out of the elevator he almost bumped right into JJ.

With her blond ponytail swinging, the media liaison was on her way to the conference room.

"Morning," she greeted him curtly, not even smiling.

The young doctor followed her, a frown on his face. Something was odd about JJ not smiling. She was almost always smiling, even when standing in front of a raging mob of obtrusive reporters. Reid doubted that her serious expression was caused by the early time of day – it was nearly five o'clock now – because a certain lack of sleep was just part of their job. They were all used to getting called in at night. He assumed that there had to be a pretty ugly new case.

Reid's teammates were already waiting in the conference room, prepared to stop whatever sick mind JJ had chosen was worth their attention. With a small nod Reid greeted his colleagues and sat down next to Hotchner.

The youngest member of the team couldn't help but notice that his boss looked rather worn-out. _Probably because of the divorce from Hailey_, the profiler thought silently. _It must be devastating for Hotch to be parted from his only child. _

His thoughts were interrupted when JJ started her presentation about the new case. Before giving them any information she pressed a button on the remote control and several pictures of mutilated victims appeared on the oversized screen.

Now Reid knew the reason for the serious expression on her face. The bodies were hardly recognizable as human. Obviously, those people had been slaughtered like animals.

Suddenly Reid found himself thinking about dead guinea pigs. His face must have lit up a bit because Morgan was watching him with curiosity in his eyes. The younger agent forced his mind to focus on the case again.

"We have five victims, three female, two male," JJ began. "All were killed at night while they were working."

Morgan interrupted: "Working at night? What kind of profession are we talking about?"

The blond agent looked at him. "They were all prostitutes in a crowded area in Las Vegas."

Reid felt his heartbeat skip.

"What?" he blurted before he could stop himself. Everyone's eyes were focused on him.

"I said, the victims had all been working as prostitutes in Vegas," JJ repeated, sounding slightly irritated.

"Something wrong, Reid? You look pale," Hotch asked.

Reid could feel his boss' intense stare on him and regretted his small outburst.

"No," he tried to reassure his colleagues. "I simply didn't catch what JJ was saying properly."

Morgan threw Hotchner a questioning glance but the team leader just shrugged and motioned JJ to continue. While the media liaison told them about the coroner's report and what exactly had been done to those people, Reid felt like throwing up his not yet eaten breakfast. His mind was racing – back to the ominous letter, the threats against himself and his mother.

_Oh god_. He was just considering if he should tell Hotch about the message when the older agent beside him declared the end of the briefing.

"Wheels up in 20," the senior profiler said and the other members of the team left the conference room.

Reid on the other hand was still trying to get his breathing under control, as well as his marginal stomach contents. He was so occupied with preventing a major panic attack that he didn't notice the door behind his back being opened again.

"Reid!" Hotch called loudly, impatiently.

The team's genius literally jumped. He recalled the statistics of heart attacks suffered by male adults in their mid-twenties who don't smoke or drink or watch football. Deciding that the odds were on his side, he turned to face his boss.

"We're leaving, Reid. Would be nice if you join us," Hotch said humorlessly and turned without waiting for an answer. The younger man was about to follow him when his cell phone rang. Hotch glared back at Spencer once more and gestured him to hurry.

Reid nodded and watched the door close before returning his attention to the ringing phone. No number appeared on the display. Frowning Spencer pushed the green button.

"Hello?" he asked.

Several seconds passed until a very familiar voice simply replied: "Reid."

The young agent froze. He opened his mouth to answer but no sound would escape his lips.

"Reid, are you there?" Again the voice Spencer knew far too well.

He tried to articulate something and this time he managed, though barely a whisper: "Gideon." And decided it'd be better to have a seat again.

"Yes, it's me," the young profiler's recently disappeared mentor confirmed. "Reid, I need you to listen carefully. It's about your new case."

The prodigy swallowed hard and listened.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal minds.

**Chapter 2**

On his way to the plane to Las Vegas Reid was oblivious to everything and everyone around him. Though his basic body functions had calmed down by now, his mind was still racing, replaying the short conversation he'd just had with Jason Gideon. The older man had gotten right to the punch line and demanded that Reid must stay out of the case.

"_Why are you saying this?" the younger man had asked, not trying to hide his confusion. "Does this have anything to do with the letter I got?"_

"_I don't have much time for explanations right now," Gideon had replied hastily. The senior profiler had seemed to be in a hurry. "We need to meet in Vegas."_

_Reid had swallowed again. Even though his mouth had been so dry, there hadn't been much to swallow. "You are there? What's going on, Gideon?"_

_But his former mentor hadn't seem to have any intention to enlighten the young genius. "I can't talk right now. I just need you to stay out of this case. Try to divert the team. Please trust me."_

_Reid had felt dizzy. "Divert the team? But..."_

_Gideon had interrupted. "Not now. We'll talk in Vegas. I'll let you know when and where." And with that he'd hung up._

For a few moments Reid had continued to listen to the beeping sound the phone had been making. Basically, the man he'd always considered a surrogate father had just asked him to sabotage the team. How was he supposed to do that? Was he even willing to do that?

Reid felt sick.

With wobbly knees he eventually arrived at the plane, slightly amazed that he'd managed to get there without stumbling over his own feet.

He tried to ignore the questioning stares his teammates sent in his direction and let himself fall into a seat at the window, as far away from the others as possible.

Despite of his inner turmoil Spencer tried to focus on the discussion about the case his colleagues had just started. He'd already missed almost the entire first briefing and knew that a lack of information wouldn't be helpful in this twisted situation.

"The killings started ten days ago," Emily Prentiss stated. "Why didn't they call us sooner?"

Morgan shrugged. "We've seen this before. The guys from the local PD probably thought they could handle it on their own."

"Obviously they were wrong. And now we have five dead people," Emily commented angrily.

"Six," JJ said, returning from a far corner where she'd been speaking with the leading detective. "They found another body tonight. Same MO."

Emily shot Derek an accusing glare that said: 'See? They should've called us sooner.'

Morgan got the hint. "This is Vegas. They don't freak out when someone gets murdered," he retorted.

Finally Hotchner interrupted. "This isn't helpful, guys. And it doesn't even matter. Just concentrate on the case," he ordered with his given authority. "What do we know about the victims?"

"The connection between them is obvious," Prentiss replied in a now more professional manner. "They were all prostitutes and had been working in the same area."

JJ continued while flipping through the case file. "The coroner's report says that the cause of death was always a slashed throat."

Morgan looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "So the Unsub stabbed and mutilated his victims afterwards? They were already dead?"

"At least already fatally wounded," Hotch interjected. "They would have died anyway. But maybe they were still alive when the other injuries were added."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances.

"Extreme overkill," Emily murmured.

Reid looked at the crime scene photos. _Someone wants to make a point here_, he thought, but remained silent. The young profiler had come to the conclusion, that for now he'd better work neither for the team nor against them. He needed more information first. He needed to talk to Gideon face to face.

"Alright everybody," Hotch announced. "It's a long flight to Vegas. Try to get some sleep. I have a feeling that this is going to be a tough case."

Reid watched his colleagues settle down, trying to get as comfortable as possible. The doctor himself, however, didn't feel like sleeping at all. Too many contradictory thoughts were racing through his mind. Spencer turned his head towards the window and closed his eyes tightly.

When he opened them again a few moments later, he was surprised to see Hotch sitting in the opposite seat. Feeling very exposed under the intense stare of his boss, Reid let his gaze drop and started to examine his skinny hands.

"You alright?" Aaron asked with a low voice, not wanting to disturb the others. "You didn't say anything during the briefing."

Still refusing to make eye contact, the younger man replied softly: "I didn't have anything to add."

There was no defiance in his voice, but still... Usually the team's genius had always some facts to add, even if they weren't relevant for the acute problem. Hotch could tell that something was very wrong, but he couldn't quite name it. With concern in his eyes, he noticed the forlorn expression on his subordinate's face.

"Reid, look at me, please," the older agent gently demanded, knowing that the youngest member of the team wouldn't be able to refuse. A certain amount of obedience was just part of his character.

And, of course, Hotch wasn't a senior profiler for nothing.

As expected, Reid's insecure glance finally met Aaron's scrutinizing stare. But the younger man didn't recognize the concern and empathy his boss wanted to express. Instead all he could see was disappointment.

_How can he not be disappointed in me? I did nothing to help with the case._

With those thoughts in mind Reid let his gaze drop again. Since he had started to work with the BAU, one of his most important principles was never to disappoint Hotch. He'd always sought the approval of the older agent and wished he could be a little more like the strong, self-confident team leader. Now Reid was about to break this rule and he felt like a cheater.

The doctor was torn between loyalty towards Hotch and the team and the urge to please Gideon on the other hand.

_Trust me..._

He'd trusted Jason Gideon more than anyone else. But then his mentor had abandoned him – just like his biological father. So the question was: Did he still trust Gideon? Could he?

"Reid," the senior profiler's smooth voice brought him back to reality. "If there's something bothering you... you know you can tell me everything."

And Reid wanted so badly to tell his boss all about the letter and the threats and Gideon's call. If Hotch would push him just a little bit more...

But the older man didn't. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk to me right now. You must be tired. Get some sleep," his superior said and went away to lay down in another corner of the plane.

Reid couldn't tell if he felt relieved or even more alone. Again he closed his eyes, hoping to achieve the state of peaceful unconsciousness. A few minutes minutes later the genius fell into a disturbed sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 3**

Detective Thomas Wolfe had already been waiting at the airport outside of Las Vegas for about thirty minutes. He was starting to get impatient when finally the plane from Virgina arrived. Only seconds after it had come to a halt a group of tired looking profilers made their way down the few steps. Some of them seemed to be still a bit unsteady on their legs. _They probably just woke up,_ the policeman mused, hoping that the agents would be fit enough to help solving this case.

The first to greet him was a pretty blond woman.

"Hi, I'm Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone," the media liaison introduced herself and put on her famous winning smile. "And this," JJ continued, gesturing towards her boss. "This is SSA Aaron Hotchner, leader of the team." The men shook hands.

"Detective Wolfe, I'm running this investigation," the gray haired man with the impressive uniform said. "Thanks for coming all the way here. We are really out of ideas right now."

"That's our job," Hotch replied simply. After his many years within the BAU he was used to this kind of relieved gratitude the profilers were often rewarded with by the local police. Hotch knew that a warm welcome could turn into skepticism quickly once they had started to work the case. So he concentrated on getting the relevant information rather than exchanging friendly phrases.

"Agent Jareau told us on the plane that there had been another murder?" Hotch got straight to the point.

Detective Wolfe nodded. "Yeah. Early in the morning we received an anonymous call that a body had been dumped in a small alley near the other crime scenes."

"And you think it was the same Unsub?" Morgan wanted to know.

The policeman looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Unsub?"

"Unknown subject. The killer," JJ explained immediately, wondering how many times this sentence had been spoken in the last couple of years. _Reid probably knows_, she thought and could barely suppress a very inappropriate grin.

"Oh, well, the injuries were almost the same like those of the previous five victims. And all bodies were found within an one mile radius," Wolfe said and added wryly: "I think there's no question if it was the same killer."

"Do you already co-operate with the local media?" JJ asked, mentally preparing to step into action.

"Not yet. We didn't want to spread panic..."

"The people who work on the street must be warned," Hotch stated calmly. He turned to JJ. "I want you to set up a press conference for tomorrow."

She gave him a nod and a smile and the group started to move towards the SUVs.

"Do you want to go to your hotel first? Get some rest before we start?" Thomas Wolfe asked cautiously, aware that the long flight must have been exhausting.

The BAU chief shook his head. Though the word _rest_ sounded pretty tempting, they could waste no time. After all, there was a murderer on the loose, who'll probably kill again within the next 48 hours.

"We should go to the latest crime scene right now," the senior profiler decided.

Half an hour later the two cars arrived at the place where the sixth corpse had been found. It was late afternoon by now and the warm spring sun seemed to be almost touching the horizon. The nice weather did hardly mirror the cruel events that had taken place the night before.

To Reid the sunshine was pure malice. The storm of so many different feelings was still raging through his mind. Hesitantly he followed his colleagues to the crime scene.

The police had left everything how it'd been found, knowing that the profilers would most likely want to take a look at it. The group gathered around the body. They needed a minute to take in the bloody mess that presented itself in the forsaken alley. Hotch was the first to snap out of the daze. He decided that the team could work more efficiently if they split up.

"Morgan, why don't you and Prentiss go and talk to the people on the street. Maybe you can find a witness or at least someone who noticed a suspicious looking person," the team leader suggested.

"Sure thing," Morgan agreed and left the scene together with Emily. JJ had already been taken to the police station where she wanted to prepare the press conference.

So there were only Hotch, Reid and Detective Wolfe left to examine to body. The two older men knelt down next to the remains of what must had been a young woman. Her throat was slashed and there were many stab wounds all over her body. Hotch tried to count them but gave up soon. Due to the large amount of dried blood it was hard to tell where one injury stopped and the other began. The victim's face was hardly recognizable. Apparently, the Unsub had carved something into her cheeks and forehead.

"There are no blood trails. The murder must have happened right here," Hotch said and looked at Wolfe. "Do you know if she was a prostitute, too?"

The detective shrugged. "Well, for obvious reasons it's hard to identify her properly. But if you consider that she was on her own in this area... at night. And then look at her outfit."

Hotch did and noticed that she barely wore clothes at all. _Which is probably Wolfe's point_, the profiler thought wryly. Once more he let his gaze wander over the body.

"You can't do so much damage within two minutes. This must have taken time," the senior profiler said. "Reid, what do think?" He looked up at the younger agent who still stood several feet away.

Reid was aware that his boss was expecting some kind of input from their genius. "It's, uhm... hard to tell. I agree, this must have taken some time," he replied, realizing that this had definitely not been a genius like comment.

Actually his brain had already calculated how much time the Unsub must at least have spent there. _And_ _maybe it wasn't just one Unsub... _But Reid said none of this aloud. _I can't..._

Hotch glared at his colleague, confusion and anger clearly written on his face. Reid turned around, pretending to examine the environment. He couldn't stand his superior's – this time indeed disappointed – expression. Wolfe, though not a profiler, couldn't help but notice that there was something going on between the two agents. Suspiciously he eyed the younger profiler, wondering what the hell this boy was doing here anyway. _He barely dares to look at the body_, the detective thought. Of course, he didn't articulate any of it. After all he needed these guys' help to catch the killer.

Finally Hotch stood up. "Let's wait for the coroner's report," he suggested and reached for his cell phone to call Morgan. He would have a word or two with his youngest team member in the evening. The team leader was just about to speed dial Morgan when he and Emily bent into the alley, approaching the other three men.

"Got anything?" Hotch had to ask, even if he could read the answer easily in Morgan's face.

The verbal confirmation came nonetheless.

"Nothing. The people on the streets here don't like cops or guys who ask cop-like questions," Morgan said.

Aaron sighed. Though distrust against the FBI wasn't a rare occurrence, he couldn't hide a certain frustration. If the Unsub would choose to strike again tonight, there wasn't much they could do to prevent it from happening.

"Alright then. We're done here," the team leader declared, glaring at Reid one again. The younger man didn't seem to notice, though.

Before the BAU-team went to their hotel to call it a day, they paid the police station a short visit. What they had learned about the killer by now enabled them to give the officers at least a vague profile.

"The Unsub is certainly male, age between 25 and 40, strong physical appearance," Hotch told the cops that had gathered around the profilers. "He was able to overwhelm his victims, some of them male. You need a lot of strength to manage that, especially if you do it so often."

Emily continued: "We don't know about the motive, yet. But there seems to be a lot of anger involved. That mirrors most likely in his behavior. He's nervous and aggressive."

The policemen wrote down everything in their notebooks and moved to leave the station. "My men will keep an eye on the people working in the streets," Detective Wolfe said. Hotch nodded his agreement. There was nothing more they could do.

About eight o'clock in the evening the profilers finally arrived at their not too comfortable looking hotel. They didn't really care about luxury at that point. As long as there were beds in the rooms this place was great. To everyone's surprise they all even got their own room. No sharing. A piece of heaven in the middle of Sin City.

Silently, the five agents split up to settle down in their rooms. Reid was about to close his door when he heard his boss calling.

"Reid, my room in ten minutes. We need to talk," Hotch ordered and turned without waiting for an answer.

The young agent closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the door frame. Just for a few seconds. He knew what the tone in Hotch's voice meant.

'I will talk and you will listen'.

The doctor closed his door with a sigh. He had nine minutes left to gather his thoughts. Then he would have to face a pissed off Aaron Hotchner. _Great._

* * *

_At the same time in another hotel in Las Vegas..._

"I told you I'd take care of this. The letter was completely unnecessary," the older man said, more than a bit upset.

"They are here. You screwed up," the younger man retorted, quite annoyed as well.

"I'll talk to him. Let me sort this out. Just stay out of it," the older man demanded.

The younger man snorted. "You are in no position to tell me what to do. You had your chance. Now it's our turn."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 4**

As soon as Reid had closed the door of his hotel room he'd started to look at his wristwatch every thirty seconds. He knew Aaron would expect some answers. And Spencer had no clue what to tell him.

_I need a plan..._

Four minutes left. Absent-mindedly he started to unpack his bag. He'd only brought some clothes, a couple of science magazines and his notebook. He threw everything on the bed, without even looking. Some things fell to the ground. Under normal circumstances he would have picked them up. Spencer didn't like the place where he slept to be messed up. Now he couldn't care less.

Maybe, Reid thought, he could claim to be ill.

'I'm not feeling very well – physically' seemed suitable for almost every situation and Hotch could hardly prove that it was a lie...

_Oh._ Lying. Not Spencer's thing. Not at all. He will start stuttering. Yes, he will certainly stutter his ridiculous lie and Hotch will know...

Three minutes. Reid took his laptop out of the bag and put it on the table. He wasted twenty valuable seconds staring at the computer without really seeing it – as if all the answers were hidden in there. _Somewhere. _

When the young profiler finally snapped out of his daze he noticed that there was an white envelope on the table. Why hadn't he seen this before? Hesitantly, Reid took the envelope and turned it around. A strong feeling of déjà vu hit him when he saw his name written on it. The handwriting was quite familiar.

Reid glanced at his watch. Two minutes. Heaving a sigh, he opened the envelope and took out the note.

The message was short:

_Blue Raven, 10 pm. Come alone. J.G._

Below an address. Reid's heartbeat quickened. He knew Las Vegas like the back of his hand. After all, he'd spent his whole childhood here. He knew this nightclub and this area of town. And he knew for sure that he didn't want to be there alone – at least not when it was already dark outside.

That was enough. He couldn't do that. He had to tell Hotch. Now. Spencer realized that he should have confided in his boss from the beginning.

The time was up and the decision made. Reid left his room to face the inevitable.

--

Standing in front of Hotch's door, Reid forced himself to breath deeply and slowly. Although still a bit nervous, a part of him was glad to get rid of the responsibility that had rested on his slim shoulders ever since this whole problem had started.

Reid knocked. No response. He waited. He didn't want to knock again. Did Hotch let him wait there deliberately? The first step of punishment?

But then the door opened. Hotch was talking to somebody on the phone, but motioned his agent to come in. Awkwardly Reid stood in the room, not knowing where to look or what to do with his hands. Obviously his boss was arguing about some divorce issues with Haley. Spencer didn't want to witness this very private discussion but what was he supposed to do?

"Yes,...no, Haley, stop it. It told you that I can't attend the appointment with you tomorrow," Hotch said, sounding very agitated.

Reid had a feeling, that this conversation wouldn't be helpful to light up the senior profiler's mood.

"Yeah, whatever. Listen, I can't talk right now. I'll call you back later."

With that he hung up.

Sighing Hotch put the cell phone on the table and closed his eyes briefly. Reid could almost see how his boss struggled to change into his team leader mode again. Silently, tiredly, Aaron sat down on the only chair in the hotel room.

Reid preferred to stand anyway.

"I guess you know why you are here?" Hotch said with his usual calm voice. Reid felt like teenager in the principal's office. He looked at his toes and nodded, realizing that he was also _acting_ like a teenager in the principal's office now.

"Would you please look at me!" Hotch demanded, not so calm anymore. Reid, of course, obeyed and made hesitantly eye contact with his boss. Finally Aaron got to the point. „" I'd like to know why you stubbornly refuse to work this case with us."

Reid swallowed. "I...well, it's c...complicated," he began, inwardly cursing his stuttering. After all, that wasn't a lie. He was about to gather his thoughts, when Hotch spoke again.

"Try me, Reid. I may not have an IQ like you, but I promise I'll do my best to understand what you are saying."

Spencer stared at the older man, wondering where all this hostility came from. Reid told himself, that Hotch was probably exhausted and unnerved because of his little chat with Haley.

Nevertheless it was getting hard not to take it personally.

Aware of the growing impatience that was building up inside his boss, Reid simply blurted out:

"It's about Gideon." There it was. No return. Waiting for a reaction.

Spencer saw the surprised expression on Aaron's face. A moment of silence followed before the senior agent got up and took a step towards the younger man.

"Are you kidding me?" Hotch asked, his voice very low and unusual icy. Almost _dangerous_.

Reid wanted to step back, but there wasn't really a place to go in the small room. "E...excuse me?" he squeezed out.

Hotch made himself clear. "We are in the middle of a case. There is a guy who slaughters people almost every second day. He'll hardly stop killing until we catch him." He paused a second for effect. "Do you really think this is the right time to discuss your feelings regarding Gideon?"

Reid blinked.

"I know his departure hit you," Hotch went on, obviously fighting to control himself. "But there were a lot of chances to talk to us. You decided to keep everything to yourself. That's your right. But now that we're investigating a case, it's not the best time to change your mind."

For several seconds Reid could do nothing but stare at his team leader. That was not the reaction he'd expected. He remained silent, hoping that the verbal onslaught was actually over.

Spencer then remembered what he'd wanted to tell Hotch in the first place. When he was sure that his boss didn't have anything to add, the younger man tried again:

"You got it wrong. It's not about..." But again he didn't get further.

"Stop it, Reid. I don't want to hear it. I expect you to do your job properly," Hotch interrupted, sounding rather fed up. "Now get some rest. See you tomorrow."

The younger agent considered if he should give it another try. However, Hotch had already turned his back to him. And, honestly, Reid did not have the courage to provoke his boss once more.

Mechanically, he headed towards the door. Before he left the room, however, Aaron spoke again, now in a quiet tone:

"Reid, you are not a child prodigy anymore, but a grown-up man. Start to behave like one."

That stung.

Without another word Reid left.

Totally confused the doctor went back to his own room, wondering what on earth had just happened. He closed the door and sat down on the edge of his bed, trying to clear his mind. The letter on the table caught his attention again. A look at his watch: 8.30 pm. In ninety minutes Gideon would be awaiting him in that nightclub.

_What should I do?_

Reid knew that his former mentor would have important information. Important for the case.

And he couldn't ignore the threats against himself.

_And Mom..._

Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and his gun and left the room. He didn't need to take Gideon's message with him. He'd read it once and would certainly never forget the words.

The place where he was supposed to meet the retired profiler was nearly at the other end of the city. Reid decided it'd be less risky to take a cab. While sitting in the back seat, he replayed his conversation with Hotch – though 'conversation' was not exactly the word to describe what had happened.

_Am I really acting like a child?_ Reid asked himself silently. He didn't know what to think. All he knew was that those words, especially the last statement had hurt him. He couldn't help it.

The profiler suddenly realized that he would arrive at the Blue Raven very soon.

"Five minutes," the driver said.

Had Reid asked him how long it would take aloud? He couldn't remember. And it didn't matter. He needed to focus on his meeting with Gideon now.

Gideon.

There were so many different emotions connected with this name. Reid felt frightened of what the older man would tell him, angry that he had abandoned him and just happy to see his surrogate father again.

"Here we are," the driver exclaimed, interrupting his passenger's mental rambling.

The young man paid the enormous bill and headed towards the brightly lit nightclub. Through the large windows he could have a look at the inside. The place was pretty crowded and Reid had to stand on his toes to make out any detail.

Then he saw him. Gideon sat alone on a table in a very far corner. At the sight of his mentor Reid's stomach knotted. For a moment he considered if it would be helpful to throw up before the meeting, but decided against it. Instead Reid took one more deep breath and felt finally ready to go in. He was just about to open the door when he felt something hard making contact with his skull.

He heard a strange whimpering sound escaping his own lips and went to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 5**

"Another coffee, sir?" The unnatural high voice of the waitress made Gideon jump slightly. He considered briefly to order a third cup, but decided that he had already enough caffeine in his system.

He asked the brunette girl for a peppermint tea instead and continued to watch the entrance of the club. By now Jason had been sitting there for almost an hour, waiting for his former colleague.

Or friend. Well, Reid.

He glanced at his watch and frowned. Already 10.42 pm. Gideon doubted that the younger man would still show up. He checked his cell phone. No calls, no text message. Though he had been aware that there was no guarantee that Spencer would come to meet him, it was still a bit odd. Usually the boy did as he was told by authority figures like Gideon was – or had been once.

"Your tea, sir." Again the disturbing voice, but this time Jason was prepared.

"Thanks. And I'd like to pay now," the guest said. There was no point in sitting here any longer. While waiting for the bill, and occasionally sipping at the hot drink, Gideon thought feverishly about what to do now. He'd been dealing with those people for over a month now. And he knew how dangerous Tristan Stuart and his goons were, capable of crueler things than simple murders.

Which was exactly the reason why Gideon wanted to keep his old team out of this.

And therefore he needed to talk to Reid.

_Where is he?_

Realizing that the easiest way to find out was to give the young profiler a call, Jason put the money on the table and left the club. It was way too noisy in there. Once he'd fought his way through the crowd and reached the outside, Gideon grabbed his cell phone and dialed Reid's number.

Straight to voice mail.

Frowning, he put the phone back into his pocket. Maybe, Jason thought, Reid was already asleep. The older man new from experience how exhausting plane rides all over the country could be. Or maybe, he mused, Spencer had to share his room with Morgan. In this case, of course, the doctor would hardly be able to answer his call. But obviously the cell had been switched off completely. Or perhaps the battery was down?

Gideon stopped pacing in front of the club, noticing how futile all speculation actually was. He smiled to himself in his very own self-depreciating way.

_Cool down._

The retired profiler came to the conclusion that he should probably go home and get some sleep. In the morning he would try to call Reid again. Yes, that's what he was going to do.

With an unpleasant feeling in his guts Jason headed towards his car.

* * *

Hands touching, grabbing, dragging. Lifting?

Voices, whispering, murmuring, then shouting.

Too loud.

Head pounding, no thinking.

Tied wrists, no moving. Shoulders aching.

Thrown to the ground. Something cold, hard.

Can't speak, can't see. Am I blind?

Listening. Buzzing, racing.

A breathless sigh.

_Not again._

* * *

Aaron Hotchner knew when to admit defeat. It was exactly six o'clock in the morning when the profiler finally gave up. He had hardly slept at all this night and decided that he could as well get up and start working. The profiler went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. For several minutes he simply enjoyed the feeling of hot water running down his body.

There were still so many different thoughts racing through his mind, fighting for attention. The same things that had kept him from falling asleep tonight.

The new case, of course, was one of them. By now they were all used to the sight of mutilated bodies and the empty eyes of the victims. Nonetheless it was always hard to get rest as long as the Unsub was still out there, hunting.

Then the whole ordeal with Haley. As if his job wasn't stressful enough, Hotch had to think of appointments with aggressive attorneys now. Not to mention the nagging pain caused by the loss of his son. Well, he hadn't actually lost Jack, but the few visiting hours Haley graciously allowed him weren't nearly enough.

Feeling less tired and more refreshed, Hotch stepped out of the shower cabin, started shaving

and continued reflecting. In fact, what had kept his mind busy all night had first of all been the conversation with his youngest team member in the evening.

Though the anger had mostly subsided, Hotch felt still irritated by Reid's behavior. Usually the genius always did his best to help the team, eager to please, excited to solve pieces of the puzzle. But this time he seemed to be distracted, as if the case wasn't worth his full attention.

And then suddenly the mention of Gideon! Where had this come from?

No, it had been the right thing to reprimand the young profiler, Hotch told himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Reid had to learn that sometimes you have to push back your feelings and give priority to the case. The senior profiler had had to learn this lesson as well when he'd been Reid's age.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Actually, he'd just finished college with 26, but that was hardly the point, right? Sooner or later Reid would have to learn that he needed to focus on the job.

Again, Aaron looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw. And he didn't like at all, what he had said to his subordinate in the evening. Of course, Hotch couldn't apologize. He couldn't undermine his own authority.

And Reid had never been overly resentful. Hopefully the young man would offer some brilliant insights today and everything will be alright.

Hotch threw his reflection one last doubtful glance and left the bathroom to get dressed.

* * *

The BAU chief arrived at the police station about seven o'clock – alone. He hadn't wanted to wake up his co-workers earlier than necessary. They would join them soon enough.

Detective Wolfe on the other hand was already at work, looking very worn-out.

"No victims tonight," Wolfe said as soon as he saw the profiler entering the office.

"Good morning," Aaron replied wryly and continued quickly before the Detective got a chance to feel embarrassed. "That's good news. Did you already receive the coroner's report regarding the latest murder?"

Wolfe nodded and headed hastily towards his desk which was pretty messed up. It took him some time to find the right document. Hotch noticed that the man's hands were shaking slightly.

_Must be tough to have a serial of brutal killings in your department_, the profiler mused.

He took the report and let his gaze wander over he results of the examination.

"It's almost identical to the other five murders," Hotch stated quietly. This wasn't unexpected.

"Time of death about 1 am. She bled out after the Unsub had cut her throat."

"What do we do now?" the gray haired policeman asked, more than willing to follow the profiler's instructions.

"For now," Hotch began. „I'd really appreciate a cup of coffee." A barely noticeable smile flickered across his face when he saw Wolfe's surprised expression. "My team will arrive here soon. Let's discuss any further steps then."

* * *

Slowly, hesitantly, very carefully Reid tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurred but he did notice that he was surrounded by a very white, fluorescent light.

_Is that it? Am I dead?_

"Good morning, Doctor Reid," a clear, cheerful voice greeted him.

_Doesn't sound like God, or the devil or whoever will be willing to take me when I'm dead._

Reid gathered all his strength to open his eyes. His head hurt like hell and the bright light wasn't helpful.

It took him a few seconds but finally he could make out the man standing in front of him. He was pretty young, 30 to 35, Spencer reckoned. The guy looked like one of those stylish stockbrokers. He wore a fashionable jacket with a suitable dark blue tie and black trousers.

Reid wanted to say something, maybe ask what on earth was going on here. But after the big effort of opening his eyes he seemingly needed some more time to do the same with his mouth.

"No need to talk at the moment, Doctor Reid," the man with the cheerful voice said, apparently aware of the younger man's struggle to speak. „You will spend some time with us. Probably you wonder what you're doing here." The guy paused. Reid realized that it hadn't been a rhetorical question and nodded warily.

"Well," the young man continued. "I will explain everything later. First I'd like you to meet one of my most valuable employees." With a disgustingly happy smile the man opened the door to fetch said 'employee'.

Reid dared a look at his environment. He couldn't turn around completely because he was restrained to a very cold, very uncomfortable metal chair. The whole room seemed to consist of white painted concrete. There were cameras in every corner of the ceiling, directed at him.

_What else._

Spencer had a very unpleasant feeling about this. His experiences with cameras were not very positive ones. Anxiously, he watched the guy return. One step behind followed another man. He was approximately as tall as Reid and about sixty pounds heavier. Not fat, but pure muscle. The profiler swallowed.

"That's Charlie," the first guy said, grinning at Reid's fearful expression. "But you might know him better as 'the Unsub'".

Reid's eyes widened. What was going on here?

"I'll give you boys some time to get to know each other." And the smaller man with the jacket turned around. Before he left, however, he murmured in Charlie's direction: "Knock yourself out. But don't touch his face."

Reid stared at the now closed door, then at the large man in front of him.

Charlie smiled and began.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 6**

After two cups of surprisingly tasty coffee Aaron Hotchner felt much more alive and awake enough to think about the case. He'd been sitting with Detective Wolfe in the break room for thirty minutes now. Several times he'd tried to get the policeman involved in a conversation not related to the recent murders. But to no avail. The man sat on the edge of his chair as if waiting for a signal that he could finally proceed working.

Sighing Hotch grabbed his cell phone. Wolfe jumped to his feet immediately. He appreciated the profiler's attempts to distract him, but there was no way he could think of anything else than the case. Not as long as the killer was still out there. The _Unsub_, he reminded himself and almost smiled.

Hotch dialed Morgan's number. It was still early in the morning – not even eight am – but by now he could take the chance to wake up his agents. Probably they were already on their way to the police station.

Some seconds passed before Morgan answered the call. "Hey Hotch," he greeted his boss. "You're already working?"

"Not really," Aaron replied, glancing ruefully at the empty mugs in front of him. "But I'm at the office. We didn't want to start without you." He looked at Wolfe who shifted on his feet impatiently. "Are you coming now, too? There's a lot of work to do." Hotch stressed this last statement, aware of the detective's strained listening.

"Yeah, I just need to get the others," Morgan answered. "I think I could hear something behind JJ's and Emily's doors. I guess they make some last adjustments to become presentable again." A small giggle on both sides of the phone. "I guess I pick up Reid first. We'll be right there, Hotch." End of the morning chat.

* * *

Charlie was disappointed. His boss had promised him some major fun with a Fed. A real federal agent! And what did he get?

He let his gaze drop to the curled up figure lying on the ground.

A lanky, whiny kid half his weight. Pathetic!

Charlie scratched his forehead. He didn't know how to go on here. He was told not to kill the boy and not to do damage to his face. Feverishly the larger man tried to figure out what he could do with the freak that would be within those rules. Damn, creativity wasn't Charlie's thing at all.

He had even removed the kid's restraints in order to at least simulate a real fight. But there had been nothing. No defense. And this was supposed to be Fed! Ridiculous.

Almost gently Charlie gave Reid's shoulder a light tap with his foot. No movement. Except for the boy's breathing, of course. Charlie had learned to stop in time. OK, he had failed in some previous cases, but in the end mistakes are important if you want to become better at your profession.

And Charlie was for sure one of the best in his line of business.

He decided that his job was done properly and that he should go and get the boss. He left the room without glancing back at Reid who lay motionless on the cold concrete floor.

* * *

"Do you have a map of your department?" Hotch asked Thomas Wolfe. Maybe, Aaron thought, Reid could make a geographical profile later. First of all, however, he wanted to keep the detective busy as long as the team hadn't arrived at the police station. The guy's nervous behavior was starting to get to him.

Quickly Wolfe headed towards another room to get the map. Hotch watched him disappear, shaking his head slightly.

His phone rang. He looked at the display: Morgan.

Frowning Aaron pushed the button. "Morgan? I hope you are calling from the SUV?" It had been ten minutes since their last talk. By now they should be on their way.

The younger agent sounded irritated. "Uhm, Hotch, are you sure that Reid isn't already at the station?"

Hotch paused a second. What kind of question was that? "Well, provided he isn't hiding under the desk somewhere in the office, I am pretty sure, yes."

"Then," Morgan continued earnestly. "...we have a problem."

* * *

When Jason Gideon awoke in the shabby bed of his equally shabby interim apartment he felt as if he'd aged about ten years over night. How old would that make him? The retired agent groaned. Nothing to think about right now.

What he knew for sure was that a man needed more than two and a half hours sleep per night.

Jason couldn't even remember a time when he'd gotten some real rest – on a regular base.

Maybe before Frank? Before Boston?

_Who cares_, he thought and struggled to get on his feet. It took him a minute. _Yes, I'm getting old. There's no denying_

Though physically wretched, Gideon's mind was still as sharp as it had always been. His memory was working as well.

_Reid_, he reminded himself while flipping through a large pile of clothes to choose something he could wear today. Jason quickly put on his favorite blue jeans and a plain black shirt and started to search for his cell.

He stopped two minutes later, however, coming to the conclusion that he needed his glasses to find the tiny phone.

Ah, there it was. Stuck between the mattress and the wooden bed frame. With his thumb and index finger Jason fished it out of its trap. He looked at the display to get the time of day.

Almost nine o'clock. Certainly Reid and the others were already working.

_Only one way to find out..._

He pressed speed dial number two. Reid's number.

This time Jason could hear it ringing. So the phone had been switched on again. Relieved the older man waited for his former colleague to answer. Maybe there was a way to fix things before they would spiral out of control.

"Jason! What a nice surprise," a voice on the other end exclaimed. A voice that did not belong to Reid. Gideon's heartbeat became faster than it was healthy for a man his age. He knew who was there speaking.

"Jason? I guess you're surprised, too?" A chuckle.

The profiler's legs felt way too wobbly suddenly. Gideon let himself slump down onto the ragged bed.

"Tristan," he croaked, realizing that he needed to avoid an overly upset tone. Jason cleared his throat and tried again: "Where did you get this cell phone?"

Now the younger man laughed. "Oh, your friend was so nice to give it to me. At the moment he probably doesn't feel like chatting anyway."

_Oh god. They hurt him._ Gideon wanted to shout and threat and curse. _Stay calm..._

"So you have him?" he asked as casually as he could. "I was wondering why he didn't show up last night. You could have told me, Tristan."

_This is all my fault_, the retired agent thought. _Why do I keep endangering the people around me?_

"I believe I made it very clear that this is no longer your problem, Jason." Not laughing anymore.

"I'll handle things with Dr. Reid here and you do... whatever you do all day."

_Handle things? _

"Let me help you sort this out," Gideon suggested. There was no way he would abandon Reid. Not again. "I know how these FBI guys work. You will need my insight, Tristan."

Silence. Apparently the younger man had to consider this offer a moment. When he spoke again he used that cheerful voice Gideon hated so much.

"Alright, Jason. Meet me this afternoon. I'll send you an address."

The older man nodded, more to assure himself than Tristan Stuart.

Both men hung up simultaneously.

* * *

Hotch was livid. As soon as Morgan had told him that Reid was not in his hotel room he'd left the police station and a very irritated head detective.

This was unbelievable! How did their boy genius dare to just sneak away? In the middle of a case!

There had to be a rational explanation, Aaron reminded himself while driving towards the hotel. He refused to believe that Reid had run away like a spoiled child only because he'd been reprimanded by his boss. Spencer wouldn't do this. Would he?

When Hotch arrived at the parking lot in front of the hotel Morgan, Prentiss and JJ were already awaiting him. The senior profiler literally jumped out of his car and headed towards what was left of his team.

"Any news?" The logical question was directed at no one in particular. Accordingly no one felt responsible to reply at first.

It was Emily who finally said something. "Nothing. We tried his cell but he didn't answer."

"I'll call Garcia. Maybe she can track his phone," Morgan decided and moved some feet away from the group.

"Good morning, chocolate muffin," Penelope greeted, sounding lighthearted as usual. "Convenient that you call right now. I'm done with checking the victims..."

Morgan cut her off. "Listen, baby girl. Can you try to catch a signal from Reid's mobile phone?"

The question itself and the seriousness in Derek's voice alerted the blond tech girl. "What's wrong? Something happened to my little sweet cheeks?" Nothing but pure concern in her tone.

Morgan didn't want to upset her more than necessary. "We don't know yet. Maybe it's nothing to worry about. But hurry, okay?"

"Of course," Garcia confirmed immediately and quit the call.

Derek turned to face his team members again. "All we can do is wait now," he said.

"No," Hotch countered. "Let's go to his room. Maybe we find something that gives us a lead where he's gone."

* * *

There were several aspects of the current situation that concerned Spencer Reid deeply.

The first thing was that he'd completely lost track of time. The young profiler hated it when that happened. To know what time it was, always gave him at least an illusive feeling of orientation and control. At the moment Spencer didn't even know if it was day or night. There were no windows in the room, only this damned, brain-piercing white light.

Reid was also troubled by the fact that his captor hadn't even asked him a question before the beating had begun. That was not the normal procedure. Usually the bad guy wanted to get special information and hit the good guy only if he refused to give them away. Of course, Reid would never reveal FBI secrets or anything related to the case. But it was disconcerting that the man with the cheerful voice had not even tried to get some answers first.

_Thinking hurts_, Spencer suddenly noticed.

Actually, every single part of his abused body hurt. Or better: every part below his head. For some reason the large goon, _Charlie_, had not harmed Reid's face. Which was the only positive thing the young doctor could make out at the moment.

Still he lay curled up on the floor next to the metal chair, trying to ease the pain in his stomach. Hopefully the guy hadn't caused internal bleeding or broken bones. In order to keep his mind from drifting into blackness again, Spencer recalled the possible consequences of a punctured lung.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted when the heavy door opened with a creaking sound.

"Dr. Reid. I see you took a little nap." The boss was back and looked with an evil grin at the battered figure on the ground. Charlie had done a good job, he noticed satisfied and motioned his gifted employee to pick up the Fed.

Reid felt strong hands grabbing him by his armpits, lifting him off the floor. The sudden movement caused him to moan pitifully. He didn't want to make such noises but he was in no condition to suppress them.

Charlie pushed him not too gently down on the chair and re-did the restraints. He stepped back again and let his boss handle the more complicated issues. Like talking.

"So, Dr. Reid," the cheerful voice began. "Are you up to a little chat now?"

The profiler managed to lift his head enough to make eye contact with his abductor.

The guy with the suit put on his fake grin again. "You're certainly curious to what you owe the honor of being our special guest."

Spencer merely nodded, knowing that he needed to gather as much information as possible. Then he'd be able to figure out a way to survive this.

_Hopefully._


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 7**

It was hard to focus.

The part of Reid's brain responsible for processing information seemed to be off duty momentarily. His mind struggled to shut down, as if trying to protect its owner from feeling the dull, throbbing pain that was raging through his body.

But he needed to focus.

It was important to know why they had abducted him. Which, Spencer assumed, was exactly what that guy with the suit and the tie and the false smile was about to explain right now.

"Are you even listening?" His captor's annoyed question caused Reid to flinch. Obviously his struggle to concentrate had not remained unnoticed.

Now that he was sure of the injured man's attention, the abductor carried on: "I was trying to tell you who I am, Dr. Reid." Not sounding angry anymore. "My name is Tristan Stuart and I'm a... well, a businessman... of sorts." His smile brightened even more. The fashionably dressed man looked expectantly at Reid, aware of the agent's confusion.

"What k...kind of b...business," Reid finally managed to ask.

"Appropriate question, indeed," Tristan replied happily and turned around to Charlie. "You can go now. This is a conversation between gentlemen. So your presence is not required at the moment."

The larger man just shrugged and left the room.

Reid watched his abuser disappear and relaxed slightly. Stuart didn't seem to be the type of man who got violent himself - at least not in a physical way. Nonetheless the agent stayed alert. After all, Reid had no idea where this 'conversation' would lead.

"So what exactly is my business?" Tristan began. "Hm, how to describe it? Figure me as some kind of provider. Yes, that's the word. I provide certain services for well-off men and women."

"Services...," Reid repeated. Not a very detailed description. He wasn't sure, though, if he even wanted to know more details. For some reason the young agent doubted seriously that - in this case - 'services' meant something like 'I walk your dog' or 'I manage to clean every sort of carpet'.

Tristan Stuart was eager to explain. "Yeah, it's about companionship, Dr. Reid. You wouldn't believe how many rich people are lonely. I felt so sorry for them and decided to offer some help," he said grinning, apparently enjoying himself very much.

_Dawning._

"So you're a pimp?" The words were out before Reid could swallow them. He had no intention to provoke the guy. Obsequiously he let his gaze drop. Waiting for the storm to come.

What followed, however, was hardly a breeze.

"No, no, I don't like this term. It sounds so dirty," Tristan stated casually. No hint of anger in his voice.

Hesitantly, Reid dared to make eye contact again. It was time to ask the question.

"What do you want from me?"

His captor snorted. "Nothing, really. I don't expect you to co-operate in any way," he said calmly.

The profiler just looked at him. Totally confused.

"The only function you'll have to fulfill is helping me to get rid of your nosy profiler friends," Tristan explained and added smiling: "I guess you already noticed the cameras on the ceiling?"

* * *

The hotel room was a mess.

Hotch and the other team members had already spent half an hour searching for a lead where Reid could be.

"I don't think Spence would like us to snoop around here," JJ said while digging through Reid's clothes.

"What he likes or dislikes is not my prior concern at the moment," Hotch replied impatiently.

The room was not that big and the profilers started to doubt they would find anything useful in there.

The unit chief was just about to stop the search when he heard Morgan calling.

"Guys, get here! I think I found something."

The group quickly gathered around the dark skinned agent who was holding a small piece o paper in his hand. The profiler read the short handwritten message aloud.

A few seconds of silence passed. Eventually, JJ asked: "Spence had a date?"

Hotch glared at her, then decided not to comment her question, but to step into action instead.

"Alright. We have an address. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go to the Blue Raven. Maybe anyone has seen him there," Hotch ordered. "JJ, you come back to the police station with me. We have to do this press conference today."

After all there was still a murderer to catch. _Wolfe must be beside himself by now_, Hotch mused. The thought of meeting the over-excited detective again was not particularly delightful.

While JJ and Emily were already on their way out, Morgan was still looking at the dubious letter. Hotch placed a hand on his shoulder to get him out of his trace.

The younger man looked at his boss. "J.G?" It was more a statement than a question.

Both men's gazes locked. Several seconds. Uneasy seconds.

Remarkably enough that it was Hotch who broke eye contact first. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

Morgan nodded and left the room with the note in his pocket.

Hotch let his gaze wander over Reid's messed up stuff one last time and followed his colleague.

* * *

Reid had about a billion questions. He hadn't got the chance to ask them because Stuart had left the room in the middle of their so-called conversation to answer his cell.

He'd promised to come back, though.

The pain, Spencer was relieved to notice, had become more and more bearable. It looked like the injuries Charlie had inflicted were not that serious. The profiler tried to clear his diffuse thoughts. Obviously Tristan didn't want any information from him. How could he be helpful to make the team leave the city?

Reid glanced anxiously at the cameras above him. They appeared to be switched off at the moment. No tiny red light to be seen right now. He remembered the red spot from his first meeting with Tristan. There was most likely a video of his little encounter with the goon.

The young doctor's mind drifted back to his ordeal with Tobias. Or Charles. Or Raphael. There had been a camera, too. Hotch had told him afterwards that Gideon and Garcia had watched the beating, the seizure and eventually his death. _Short-lived death_, Reid thought and struggled not to laugh out loudly.

_Black humor is a psychological mechanism to suppress fear. Don't get hysterical..._

He looked around again. This was different. His captor seemed to be in control and very comfortable with the situation. The whole setting was much more professional.

Reid was also rather worried about the fact that Tristan knew so many things about him. He was probably the one who had sent the threat to his apartment.

And what about Gideon? The older man must have been upset that Reid didn't show up.

Speaking of upset...Hotch. _Oh_. Of course! The team was certainly looking for him already.

_They are the best profilers in the country. They will find me._

Before this small glimmer of hope could sink in properly, the heavy door opened again.

"Sorry I made you wait, Dr. Reid. But the call was urgent," Tristan explained evenly.

As if this was some kind of distinguished business meeting, Reid noted inwardly and eyed his abductor to see if the call had any influence on the guy's mood. Didn't seem to be worse so he dared to ask one of his billion questions.

"Did you send me the letter?" Yeah, that was a good one to begin with.

Absent-mindedly Tristan answered while walking around the chair Reid was restrained to. "Uhm, not me personally, but yes, the idea was mine."

The man had moved out of Reid's sight for a short period of time. Not long enough to scare the young doctor.

Only a few moments later he stood again in front of his captive, this time holding a remote in his hand.

The agent's gaze wandered from the remote up to Tristan's grinning face and further up to the cameras.

"I'm glad to see you got the hint." Cheerful, sickening voice again. He pushed a button.

Red lights on. Cameras on duty.

When Reid lowered his gaze again he suddenly found himself looking right into the barrel of a gun.

His heartbeat quickened immediately.

"I'm going to remove your restraints now. Don't try anything, Dr. Reid," Tristan warned.

Spencer watched him with irritation, hardly able to breath, let alone move.

Still pointing the gun at Reid, the man took a step back, scrutinizing his captive. Considering.

Finally speaking: "Now, take off your shirt."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Criminals is still not mine.

**Chapter 8**

"I don't like to repeat myself, Dr. Reid. Take off your shirt!"

_No, no, no, no..._

"No," Reid managed with a small choked voice, watching fearfully how the man with the gun became more and more agitated. The agent started to miss that cheerful tone now.

"That was not a request," Tristan said angrily. "You will either get out of this shirt on your own or I'll tell Charlie to help you with it."

Reid didn't want to be touched by Charlie or anyone else. And he didn't want to be seen without his shirt. The BAU genius had always been a very private person. There was a reason why he wore those geeky clothes – cords, shirt, sweater vest, tie. He would never expose himself willingly by wearing something tight and sexy like Morgan did sometimes. Reid was aware of his own skinny, pale body and the last thing he wanted to do was to draw anyone's attention to his lack of muscles and, well, masculine strength.

He looked at his tormentor pleadingly, seeking for at least a tiny glimmer of empathy. All he got in return, however, was a cold smirk.

"Come on," Tristan urged. "I'm sure there is nothing to be ashamed of." God, sometimes he loved his job.

Reid exhaled audibly. Slowly, very slowly his shaking hands moved to the top button of his shirt.

* * *

"Where have you been, Agent Hotchner?" Detective Thomas Wolfe had been all over the place since the senior profiler's abrupt departure in the morning. The unit chief hadn't even explained what was going on. The guy should offer a real good excuse for his behavior.

"There was an incident at our hotel that required my attendance," Hotch stated calmly. There was no need to tell Wolfe about Reid's disappearance.

Before the policeman could initiate a longer discussion, the team leader tried to soothe him with some good news. "I brought Agent Jareau with me," he said, gesturing to JJ. "I suggest you two discuss the details of the press conference. I have an important call to make."

The team's media liaison smiled at the still irritated looking detective and led him away by touching him softly at his elbow.

Hotch waited until they were out of sight, then grabbed his cell phone and dialed Garcia's number.

"Speak handsome boss man!" the tech girl replied, sounding quite busy.

"Did you get any signal from Reid's phone yet?" Aaron knew he should rather ask what she'd found out about the victim's identities, give priority to the case at hand. But he seriously started to worry about their youngest team member. All the anger and disappointment Hotch had felt before gave away to pure concern and, if he was honest with himself, a growing feeling of guilt.

He heard Penelope sigh. "Sorry, the cell must have been turned off. There's no sign of it," she told her boss and asked tentatively: "So our sweet genius boy didn't show up?"

"No, not yet," Hotch replied truthfully. "All right then, please send us the information about the victims."

"Will do," Garcia assured and quit the connection.

The senior profiler put the phone back into his pocket and joined JJ and Wolfe.

* * *

Meanwhile Morgan and Prentiss were driving towards the Blue Raven. It had been a silent journey until now. Both agents were lost in their own thoughts. Emily had noticed the troubled look on her partner's face and glanced at him from the passenger seat every now and again.

They had almost reached the given address when she finally decided to say something. "Uhm, do you have any idea who could have written the message?" After all Derek knew Reid much longer than Emily did, so perhaps...

"No," Morgan answered curtly. He didn't mean to sound rude, but Hotch was right. Speculation wouldn't do any good here. He glanced briefly at Prentiss who preferred to look out of the window again and decided to ignore her slightly hurt expression.

"There it is," Derek exclaimed, relieved that the awkward situation would come to an end. He parked the SUV in front of the club which seemed to be closed. A sign at the entry told the agents that the place would only open at six pm. And now it was around noon.

They peered through the window and saw a man cleaning up the bar. Morgan knocked. The small, rounded middle-aged guy frowned and unlocked the door.

"Can't you read?" he asked the far too early visitors unfriendly. "If you wanna dance come back in six hours." The guy was about to close to door again, but stopped abruptly when Morgan and Prentiss showed him their badges.

"We have a few questions if you don't mind," Derek said calmly and stepped past the confused man without waiting for an invitation. He didn't need one.

* * *

The restaurant was very crowded. It was lunch time and many businessmen and -women had come to spend their break here, eating and chatting.

Gideon sat alone at a table near the window, distractedly shoving his food around the plate, thinking. Tristan had sent him an address where they would meet this evening. The retired profiler was well aware that it wouldn't be easy to get Reid free. He had a pretty good idea what purpose was behind the kidnapping. Probably, Jason mused, they want use the young agent to force Hotch and the team to step back from the case.

Blackmail Aaron Hotchner! Gideon couldn't help but smile at the thought. He knew his former colleague would never abandon a case, despite of Reid's involvement.

_Reid._ The small smile on Gideon's face faded. The boy must be terrified. Especially after his experience with Hankel. But as distinct to the disturbed man who had abducted the genius some months ago, Tristan Stuart knew very well what he was doing. To him it would be of no interest if Reid was a sinner or a saint. If it'd serve the purpose the man wouldn't hesitate to hurt the young profiler. Or kill him or do even worse things Gideon didn't even want to think about.

With unsteady hands the retired profiler lifted the cup of coffee to take a sip of the bitter liquid. He needed to think of a plan how to convince Tristan to solve the problem in another way. That it wasn't necessary to harm the young man. Maybe he could at least find out where they kept his friend. If all other efforts failed he would still have the opportunity to tell Hotch. Hopefully they would be able to save their youngest teammate.

_Everything is going to be all right._

* * *

It was cold. It was so cold in this white painted concrete room that was illuminated by the even whiter light shining from above.

Reid shivered. Tristan had taken away his shirt after he'd forced him to get it removed. That must have been hours ago. For the young agent it felt like an eternity. The cameras seemed to be still working. He barely dared to look at them, trying to pretend that nobody was going to see him like that.

He looked down at his exposed upper body. The bruises Charlie had inflicted earlier were still developing, getting darker with every hour that passed.

The pain, however, was almost gone. Disconcerting somehow. Feeling the pain was always a sign that the body's alert system was still intact.

Now there was no pain, but only a spreading numbness. Was it the low temperature? The lack of food and sleep? Or pure exhaustion?

Reid had no idea. And he didn't want to think about it. All he wanted was to get up from this freezing metal chair. Out of this room, away from those violent people.

He wanted to be saved by his team. By Hotch. Just to be held.

_Where are they?_

* * *

At the same time at the police headquarters Detective Thomas Wolfe approached the leader of the BAU-team with a small packet in his hands.

"Agent Hotchner," he said, interrupting a conversation between Hotch and JJ. "This has just been delivered for you."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 9**

"You know, I'm not your personal messenger boy, Agent Hotchner." With those words the detective handed the small package to Hotch.

The profiler gave him a small apologetic smile and took the delivery. There was no dispatcher written an the brown paper, only the unit chief's name.

"Fan mail?" JJ giggled and eyed the package curiously.

Hotch shrugged his shoulders. "Hardly," he commented wryly and started unwrapping. He didn't get very far, however, because Morgan and Prentiss arrived at the police headquarters just then.

"Learned anything?" Aaron asked his agents and put the package on an officer's desk. The policeman who sat there didn't look very happy about his work station being used as interim storage. But Hotch didn't notice the man's angry stare. His full attention was now directed at Morgan and Prentiss.

"We met a guy there, owner and housekeeper in one person," Morgan began. "He's been at the club last night but he didn't notice anyone fitting Reid's description."

Seeing the resigned look on her boss' face Prentiss added quickly: "That doesn't mean anything, though. After all this place must have been pretty crowded. Surely he didn't look at every single guest."

Hotch merely nodded.

"How did the press conference go?" Morgan's question this time directed at JJ, who had put on her saddest face.

"Uhm, we released only basic information. Just enough to warn the people working on the street," she explained.

"In fact all we _have_ are basic information," countered Wolfe who had joined the group silently from behind.

Which was true, Hotch noted inwardly. "Garcia sent us some facts about the six victims," he told the others. "Apart from their profession and the working area they have nothing in common. Male, female, brunette, blond, age between 18 and 29..." He stopped. Everyone had gotten the message.

"Looks like someone has a serious problem with prostitutes and feels like he's doing the world a favor by killing them," Prentiss suggested. "Remember the case in DC? That was similar."

"Maybe," Hotch replied quietly. "If this is a murderer on a mission he won't stop killing."

A female voice interrupted the conversation. "Excuse me, the forensic report is here. If you wanna take a look at it..." And she disappeared again.

The group headed towards another room to check the results of the report. Perhaps the Unsub had left some DNA traces.

Hotch, however, was called back by a somewhat annoyed sounding police officer.

"Sir, would you mind to take your package off my desk?"

Oh, the delivery. The team leader had almost forgotten about it, his mind occupied by so many other things. "Thanks," he simply said and gave the man no smile.

On his way to the other office Hotch continued struggling with the seemingly rather willful adhesive tape. Finally he managed to tear the wrapping open and took a curious look at the inside.

What he saw made him stop short right on the threshold to the other room.

His colleagues noticed the unhealthy white color on their boss' face and immediately interrupted their animated conversation.

Expectant glances thrown at Hotch. Finally Morgan broke the silence. "What is it, man?"

Hotch didn't answer, but shifted his stare away from the package.

A straight look at Detective Wolfe. "Do you have a video recorder here?"

* * *

"Hello, Dr. Reid! I hope you made yourself comfortable?" Tristan Stuart seemed to be in a very bright mood when he entered the white room again.

His captive didn't reply. No point there.

The guy with the suit watched the shivering figure in front of him and went on: "You are very lucky, you know," he said earnestly.

Though this statement screamed for a smart-ass response, Reid remained silent. He just looked at his tormentor through the strands of hair that partly hid his face.

Tristan explained: "I seriously considered to pay your mother a visit." He paused to let his words sink in, apparently enjoying this very much.

Reid held his breath and sent his captor an icy stare. He recalled the words written in the threatening letter he'd received in Quantico. The profiler had completely forgotten about his mom since this unpleasant situation had started. He couldn't help but feel a sting of guilt about that.

Tristan must have noticed the turmoil that raged inside the younger man. "No need to worry, Dr. Reid. Your mommy is still safe and sound in the nuthouse you put her in."

The profiler's involuntary wince wasn't lost on the other man, whose grin broadened even more.

"You should be glad that I don't like having mad people around me. I have to cope with enough stupid and incompetent guys already, so I can do without another loony very well."

Of course, Reid didn't like the way suit-guy was talking about his mother at all, but at least he left her alone. At the moment that was all that mattered.

With the creaking sound Reid knew all too well, the door opened. And Charlie stepped in. The agent could hardly suppress a groan. Not the most enjoyable memories were associated with that face. The young agent braced himself, mentally and physically preparing for the next beating.

Instead of attacking Reid the large man handed his boss a Polaroid camera.

"Thank you, Charlie," Tristan said and motioned his employee to wait in the far corner of the room, behind the chair.

Now Reid couldn't see what the big guy was doing. Disconcerting. Before he had a chance to worry about this too much, however, he was blinded by a sudden lightning. When he opened his eyes again all he could see were lots of little black spots.

"Oh sorry, should have warned you," Tristan chuckled, sounding definitely not sorry.

Slowly the spots faded and as his view became clear enough again Reid saw his captor holding a photo, smiling at it.

"Very nice," Tristan said with a pleased tone. "Now could you lift your head a bit? I do really have a thing for long hair but I'd love to see that pretty face of yours as well."

The restrained profiler did not like where this was going. He decided to refuse doing anything connected with photographing. He even let his head drop a bit more. Therefore he couldn't see the small encouraging nod Tristan gave Charlie.

Suddenly he felt strong hands take hold of his chin from behind, lifting his head forcefully. Just in time Reid noticed how the man in front of him raised the camera again. This time he closed his eyes tightly, trying to prevent those annoying black spots.

"No, no. That's not the way to do it, Dr. Reid," Tristan stated, getting slightly upset. "My clients need to see your beautiful eyes."

"E...excuse me?" Reid stuttered, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"Oh, right. We didn't talk about it, yet." Businesslike tone now. Suit-guy looked at Charlie who instantly let go of Reid and stepped back into his corner. Waiting.

"I guess you figured out already that there is no way we'll ever let you return to your team," Tristan said casually. "That's a no-brainer. After all you know our names, our faces, so..."

As a matter of course Reid had thought about it. He was aware that they wouldn't offer him a ride back to the hotel once this is over. Unless his team will find him soon, he was most likely going to die here...

"Of course, we are no barbarians," the kidnapper stopped Reid's musing. "I don't plan to kill something like you."

"S...some_thing_ like m...me?" Once more the young profiler cursed his stuttering. It made him appear weaker than he was already.

"Yeah. It would be a shame to waste something like you," Tristan replied thoughtfully and eyed his prey with assessing glances.

Reid wanted to become invisible. But there was no hiding in the well lit room. He didn't want to even think about what this man's words implied. And there were still so many questions.

His captor noticed Reid's attempt to articulate something, but raised his hand, cutting him off nonverbally. "I'm afraid I have to go now. There's an important appointment this evening," he explained. "I'm going to meet an old friend of yours."

Tristan watched grinning how Reid's facial expression changed from highly frightened to simply puzzled.

"Charlie will keep you entertained as long as I'm away. Right Charlie?"

Reid couldn't see the other man's reaction because the goon was still somewhere behind the chair. But it was most likely a nod.

Tristan gave his captive a fake smile and left.

Charlie stayed.

* * *

Hotch stood alone in the backyard of the Las Vegas police headquarters. For the very first time in his entire life he felt the urge to smoke. He knew it was a disgusting and damaging habit but he'd heard about its calming effect once. That was exactly what he needed right now.

But, of course, he didn't smoke. First, because he was SSA Aaron Hotchner who wasn't supposed to do something like that. Second, he would probably be sick if he did. And third, well, he didn't have anything to smoke.

So Hotch simply stood there, trying to block out the pictures he'd just seen. Pictures of Reid. Pictures of Reid's suffering. A cruel video that showed a battered unconscious young genius lying on the floor.

_How could I let this happen?_

Morgan approached the team leader. Outwardly, Hotch seemed as composed as always. But the younger agent knew his boss better than to believe that.

Hotch didn't say anything, afraid that his voice would betray his shaken emotional condition. So he just continued fixing a meaningless spot in the distance.

Morgan placed gently a hand on the older man's shoulder. He didn't want to be a colleague now, but a friend.

"We'll find him, Hotch," he said, trying to sound as confident as possible.

Aaron nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 10**

The video about Reid, or more specifically the beating he had to endure was not very long, hardly three minutes. The first thing the team could see was their youngest member sitting restrained to a chair.

The room was white painted and there appeared to be no windows. Given the angle of view, the camera must have been fastened at the ceiling.

Cut.

Suddenly they saw a large man approaching Reid. Then the onslaught began.

Cut.

The final sequence showed their genius lying motionless on the ground. The screen went black afterwards.

It had been a silent film until then. Which was worse actually. Reid's colleagues could only _guess_ what noises came along with the beating. And sometimes one's imagination could picture crueler things than reality does provide already.

The first time the team and Wolfe had watched the video, they hadn't noticed that there was some sort of 'Easter egg' added. When playing it back once more they didn't stop the film immediately after the picture was gone, but let it go on a bit more.

Almost a minute of silence. Then they could hear a male voice. Only sound, the television screen remained black. It seemed to be the voice of a young man. Self-confident, comfortable with the situation, jovial, _cheerful_...

His instructions were straight to the point, unmistakable. The voice told them to retreat from their current case in Las Vegas if they wanted to see Reid again. Alive.

"So there's a connection between Reid's disappearance and the murders," Emily stated. True to type, the dark-haired agent was the first to recover from the shock. Her words brought the others out of their paralyzed state as well.

Morgan struggled hard with himself not to destroy anything within his reach. For the moment he was content with just clenching his fist painfully tightly. "Hotch, he can't do this. After Hankel..."

"Wait a second," Thomas Wolfe cut him short. "One of your agents is missing? Why didn't you inform me about this?" Addressed at Hotch who'd stayed silent all the time. Of course the detective had already wondered why the team had come to the office without the boy. Not that he'd missed the strange guy very much. His contributions at the crime scene hadn't been helpful at all. However, now the absence of the agent had become Wolfe's problem, too.

"We had no idea that Reid's been kidnapped," Morgan replied, stepping in for his boss who looked like throwing up anytime soon. "Nothing pointed to the possibility that his disappearance had to do with the case."

Wolfe snorted, apparently not pleased with the answer, but willing to let it drop for now.

"So what to do?"

After that all hell broke loose in the office of the Las Vegas police headquarters.

The profilers and the police officers started to analyze the short film feverishly, trying to extract any included information. Even the tiniest details seemed to be worth their attention.

Hotch had spent some time alone in the backyard of the building and finally managed to pull himself together. After all he was the leader of a team of highly capable profilers.

He was determined to find the Unsub. And Reid.

* * *

Jason Gideon was nervous. Though not an unfamiliar feeling, it was still unusual – at least by his standards. The retired profiler had always been known for his calmness even in extremely precarious situations.

Now, on his way to his 'date' with Reid's captor, Gideon found it hard to regain his composure. His hands were unpleasantly damp and even the thin shirt he wore made him feel all hot and sweaty. Jason knew better than to blame the declining sun for these symptoms.

There was a lot at stake. Reid's life could depend on his meeting with Tristan.

Shortly after Tristan Stuart had sent him the address via text message Gideon had decided to walk there. It wasn't so far away and he'd have the opportunity to think over his plan again.

Lost in his troubled thoughts, he went along the crowded streets of Las Vegas, oblivious to the busy people running into him, insulting him, throwing depreciative glances at him.

For more than thirty years Gideon's mind had been trained to block out all irrelevant stimuli and focus completely on the problem at hand. Now was the time to use that skill.

That's why the former FBI agent was almost surprised when he reached his destination. Frowning he eyed the restaurant. The rather exclusive looking restaurant. _Well_, Jason thought, _Tristan is going to pay then._

He consulted his wrist watch. 6.56 pm. Just in time. Inhaling deeply, he went inside.

* * *

Dead silence engulfed the bright lit white room that wasn't so bright anymore now. A bluish smoke spread slowly and beclouded the light coming from the ceiling.

Reid lay on his back. He wanted to turn on his side, to curl up, to make the pain go away. But he couldn't move. He felt like a beetle, positioned on its back by some cruel kids, unable to get on his feet by himself. Funny image. Definitely not suitable to describe Reid's current situation.

Coughing. Trying to see where the stinking smoke came from. Reid managed to turn his head a bit to the right. Accidentally he made eye contact with Charlie who stood at the door holding a cigarette in his hand.

Charlie leaned against the wall, looking incredibly bored. When he noticed the younger man's glance in his direction he took one final drag from his smoke and let it fall to the floor.

"Ready for the next round?" Smirking at the agent's flinch, the larger man bent down to grab Reid by his upper arms and lifted him off the ground. Charlie had discovered how light the young man was and took delight in throwing him around.

Every now and again he sent a kick to the kid's stomach, ribs or back. Charlie avoided to use his fists too often. After all he didn't want to hurt himself by beating the bony freak.

With a small cry Reid landed in another corner of the room. On his front this time. He wanted to push himself off the cold floor. He gave it a try but didn't have the strength anymore. Shaking arms gave way and he collapsed onto the ground again.

Charlie watched the pitiful show with a grin on his face and lit another cigarette.

* * *

Tristan was already awaiting Gideon. The younger man sat alone at a table and scrutinized the menu. As soon as he noticed his partner arriving his face brightened.

"On the tick, Jason! Have a seat, please." Tristan gestured Gideon to sit down on the opposite chair.

When the older man remained silent, he continued searching for the right meal. "I consider to take trout meunière for dinner. Fish is supposed to be good for your health. Perhaps with some baked potatoes... What do you think?" He looked up again, apparently honestly interested in Gideon's opinion.

The older man didn't feel like eating or talking about food at all, but he had to act as normally as possible.

"Sounds quite delicious. I think I'll settle with a salad though. Not that hungry." In fact it was not the lack of hunger but the complete absence of appetite that was the cause for Gideon's choice. But who wanted to split hairs?

An equally exclusive looking waitress came and wrote down their order. She gave Tristan a meaningful smile. Did they know each other? _Likely_, Gideon mused. There were only a few attractive women in town the guy didn't know intimately.

After she'd tottered away the younger man spoke again. All the businessman now.

"Well, let's get to the matter of our last-minute appointment," Tristan said. The man didn't like to waste his precious time. "I guess it's about the pretty Fed. How the hell did he made it to the BAU?"

"As I said, he's got special skills," Gideon replied hesitantly.

At that the younger man laughed loudly. "Oh, I'm sure of that! I wouldn't have associated those skills with profiling though."

Jason swallowed. He knew the man's business. He was his partner after all.

Patiently he waited for the burst of laughter to fade. When Tristan had finally calmed down again, Gideon proposed tentatively: "I already told you that I know how these guys work. There are better ways to get rid of them. You don't need to kill the boy." Tensed waiting.

"And I already told you, Jason, that this is none of your business anymore," Tristan stated quietly, not angrily. "As for the boy... who says I'm going to kill him? I have big plans for him." A smirk. "And you will help me to make them come true."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 11**

Charlie re-entered the white room. He'd left for a little while to get himself a tuna sandwich and a bottle of orange juice. He'd always put great value on a balanced diet. That was the key to an excellent physical shape, as his dad used to say.

The thoroughly fit man also brought a small bottle of water. For the freak. The boss had called him earlier this evening and told him to give the boy something to drink. And to get him fully dressed again. Boss didn't want the Fed to get a flu. No further explanations. Had probably to do with business issues.

Charlie himself didn't care if the freak got the sniffles or not but he would never rebel against the boss. So he'd just put the ugly shirt back on the kid. In fact that made it even easier to throw him around.

The larger man didn't dare to grab the Fed at his thin neck, afraid to accidentally snap it. The boss wouldn't want that to happen. And Charlie knew better than to annoy the boss.

He put the sandwich and the two bottles on a small metal table and moved towards the still form lying on the floor near the opposite wall. Every now and again he had to check out if the freak was still breathing. Charlie bent down slightly and saw Reid's chest rising and falling slowly. A bit too slowly maybe, but regularly. Everything okay then.

Keeping his eyes glued to his prey, Charlie went back to get his unpretentious dinner and sat down on the metal chair. While greedily consuming the sandwich and gulping down the juice, he started to wonder where the hell the boss was. This was getting really boring.

Charlie consoled himself with the prospect of another hunting tour. Very soon. Been almost 48 hours since the last one. The boss had promised him another one. At least one. Perhaps more.

* * *

Without taking a break, Hotch and the team had been working all day - ever since they'd watched the video. Now it was almost ten o'clock in the evening and they sat together in the conference room of the PD. Most officers were already gone, but Wolfe had refused to leave the station. Of course.

"Alright, let's sum up what we can tell about the Unsub," Hotch said wearily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that exhausted.

He'd completely lost track of how many times they'd watched the short film, trying to gather as many information as possible.

Though Hotch didn't have Reid's memory, he was sure never to be able to forget those cruel pictures of their youngest member being hurt. They were imprinted on his mind for good.

"Well, we can't be sure if the guy who was beating Reid is the same man who spoke at the end of the tape," Prentiss stated. Even the brunette agent who was known for her almost exaggerated dynamism appeared to be very tired right now. Distractedly she ran her fingers through her hair. "The lack of sound during the attack makes it impossible to tell."

Morgan shook his head, disagreeing. "I think it's unlikely that it's the same guy," he said confidently. "The man who gave the instructions obviously didn't want to be recognized. Why keep the screen black if you can be seen very clearly for several minutes shortly before? That makes no sense."

The others nodded. They'd already come to the conclusion that the large goon was probably just a handyman of the guy who could be heard at the end.

They'd also tried to figure out by whom the package had been delivered. It'd been simply placed at the entry of the police station. There were surveillance cameras and Garcia had tried to isolate the person who'd put it virtually on the doorstep. But at that time of day the place had been pretty crowded and all her efforts to make out the messenger had been in vain.

"You're not going to step back from the case, are you?" Detective Wolfe's sudden question caused a lot of confused profiler faces. After some seconds of tense silence, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss looked at their team leader.

"Of course not," Hotch replied quietly. In fact he hadn't even considered that possibility. There was no way they would let themselves being blackmailed by some ordinary criminal. Unfortunately, there was one complication in this seemingly simple equation...

"We have to save Spence," JJ exclaimed excitedly. "How long is he supposed to hold out there?!"

Gently Prentiss placed her hand on the blond woman's forearm. "Of course we'll save him," she said reassuringly, aware of JJ's sisterly feelings towards Reid.

Hotch preferred to ignore the media liaison's emotional outburst. He was busy enough with keeping calm himself and was grateful that Emily took care of the younger woman.

"Your officers will patrol in the crime scene area tonight?" The senior profiler's question was addressed at Wolfe who nodded in confirmation.

"Good," Aaron said. "Hopefully the high police presence will prevent the Unsub from striking again."

Wolfe's eyes narrowed. "You want to provoke him, right? Show him where he can stuff his threat?"

"It's our only chance," Hotch explained. "We need him to contact us again." Perhaps, he added inwardly, they could piss off the creep enough to make him stumble.

* * *

Once again Reid lay in the turned-beetle-position he'd found himself earlier already. The difference was that now he himself couldn't draw this analogy anymore. In fact he wasn't able to think at all. Not properly. Only muddled bits and pieces of what had been clear thoughts once.

He heard something ringing. Tinnitus? Maybe an after-effect of the blow to the head he'd suffered when they'd caught him?

There it was again. No, not inside his head. He was pretty sure. Perhaps a cell phone?

Reid heard steps, then the creaking door. Muffled ringing now. Then no ringing. Silence.

A minute passed. Reid decided to try to turn his head a bit. Only a tiny bit. After all his head was definitely not the main problem.

It worked. He took a look around, careful not to meet Charlie's gaze again. Last time he hadn't been careful enough...

However, now there was no one. No Charlie. Reid's eyes focused on a small metallic table that stood in another corner of the white room. There was a bottle on it.

Water! Oh god, he was so thirsty. His throat felt unbearably dry and sore. His whole body was screaming for some fluid. Not that he'd lost much. There was no blood to be seen on the floor. At the wall neither. Probably it was pure exhaustion that caused the staggering thirst.

The young profiler needed to get this bottle. Sluggishly, as if in slow-motion he turned around, trying to suppress the embarrassing whimpering noises that kept coming from his mouth.

His brain, unable to process the nervous conduction from so many different parts of his body, wanted to shut down again. Despite of the strong desire to just go back to sleep, Reid struggled to stay conscious.

With gritted teeth and watering eyes he slowly began to crawl towards the tempting fluid.

* * *

Groaning inwardly, Gideon stepped out of the restaurant. This had been the longest dinner he'd ever had. Tristan had deftly managed to avoid a conversation about Reid. After his first disturbing allusion the younger man had quickly changed the subject.

Therefore, Gideon had still no concrete idea what Tristan's 'big plans' for Reid were.

The retired profiler noticed a black SUV standing right in front of the restaurant. Quizzically he looked at his partner, one eyebrow raised.

"We go on a trip," Tristan said. "I'm going to need your help with the boy. There's just no better person to do it."

Gideon put on a forced smile. Now he knew his role in this play.

Another goon – Tristan had a lot of them – approached him, holding a blindfold in his hands.

The younger man gave Gideon an apologetic smile. "Rules are rules. No exceptions."

The former agent was getting nervous. "So you don't trust me?"

Tristan motioned the goon to blindfold the older man. "Of course not, Jason. I don't even trust my mother. Why would I trust you with something as valuable as the whereabouts of the kid?"

Without any further explanation, the now sightless Gideon was led to sit in the back seat. He heard the engine howl and started to mentally prepare for his reunion with Reid.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 12**

After what felt like an eternity the car finally came to a halt. Gideon could hear the engine being stopped. It was hard to appraise how long they'd been on the road but he guessed it must have been nearly an hour. A long journey in any case. Enough time for Gideon to drive himself over the edge.

Very soon he was going to meet Reid face to face. The thought of his former colleague being hurt and scared by these ruthless men made his guts cramp painfully. Plan A and plan B had already failed. There had been no possibility to persuade Tristan to let Reid go, and due to the blindfold Gideon had no clue where the young profiler was being kept.

So there wasn't much the retired profiler could do to help him. At least not tonight. He was sure there would be no way he could free Reid on his own. Tristan was very cautious when it came to business matters. Most likely this place was guarded like Fort Knox.

"Here we are," Tristan announced from the front passenger seat. The sightless Gideon jumped at the sudden noise and focused on the here and now again. "You may remove the blindfold now, Jason."

No sooner said than done. Immediately the older man took off the black ribbon and got out of the SUV. The first thing he noticed was the absence of light. Unusual for Vegas. _Must be somewhere on the outskirts._

All Gideon could see were a lot of empty buildings. No residential houses, but only decayed factories. All in all this place appeared to be an old, deserted industrial area. The three men stood in front of one of those buildings. There were two very similar looking cars parked next to their own vehicle.

"It's getting chilly," Tristan said, pulling his jacket tighter as if to underline his statement. "Let's go inside."

Followed by Gideon and the nameless goon, the younger man entered the dark house.

* * *

At the same time Aaron Hotchner lay in his rather uncomfortable hotel bed. It was past midnight and even though totally overtired, the profiler found it hard to fall sleep.

As team leader he had to make the decision today. The decision how to respond to the threat. Objectively regarded, his choice was right. Hotch knew that. He had to take the chance and provoke the Unsub.

His heart, however, wasn't that convinced. After all, his decision could have bitter consequences - first of all for Reid.

Hotch had replayed his last dialog with the young doctor over and over in his mind. In fact, he thought, it had more been a monologue. Reid had tried to tell him something. Something about Gideon. Then he'd disappeared and they'd found a note signed with the initials 'J.G'. Coincidence?

With a frustrated groan, Hotch rolled over to lie on his right side, his favorite position to sleep. His mind went in circles without making any progress. He could as well close his eyes and gather new energy for the following day. Who knew what to expect next?

* * *

Gideon felt quite disoriented. Tristan had led him through the large, hardly lit building. At some point the driver must have taken another turn because he wasn't behind them anymore.

The route was very confusing. Upstairs, downstairs, several turns to the left and the right and finally a long distance straight ahead.

At the end of the corridor Gideon could see a seemingly heavy metal door. Since there was nowhere else to go, he assumed that they had reached their destination.

And indeed, Tristan stopped and turned around to face the older man. Grinning.

"Alright, Jason, ready for the much longed for reunion?" Obviously not expecting an answer, he moved to push the door open.

It made an odd creaking sound, almost painful to Gideon's ears. He watched Tristan stepping into the bright, white room and made an attempt to follow.

He didn't get very far, however, because the younger man stopped short right behind the threshold. Gideon saw Tristan kneeling down, making a strange noise which could have been interpreted as a muffled "Shit."

Highly alarmed now, Gideon pushed past him to see what was going on.

He saw it then.

An involuntary gasp escaped his lips at the sight of the unmoving figure lying on the floor near the door.

Reid lay on his front, arms stretched forward as if he'd tried to reach to something...

Something like the bottle of water that stood innocently on the small table in front of the unconscious young agent.

"I guess he wanted a drink," Tristan commented dryly, still checking for a pulse. "He's okay as far as I can tell." Not too gently he grabbed hold of Reid's shoulders and shook him, trying to wake him up.

"Stop it," Gideon demanded.

The man with the suit looked up, an eyebrow raised. He wasn't used to be ordered around.

"I'll handle things here," the retired profiler tried to appease. "You know how it works. I need to talk to him in private."

Tristan arose. He was about Gideon's height and looked him straight in the eye.

Finally he spoke in a rare quiet, dangerous voice: "I know he's an old colleague of yours but I trust you to do your job." He paused and glanced at the cameras on the ceiling. "I'll turn them off as long as you're in here. I know you don't want to reveal your special methods."

Gideon nodded. That was the deal. He was never to be watched when doing his job with the new 'employees'.

Tristan looked down at Reid once more. "Give him some water when he comes round. Don't want him to dehydrate." A smirk. "Do what's necessary. Break him."

Behind Tristan the door shut slowly.

Gideon closed his eyes briefly. _Break him_. That was what Tristan expected him to do. That was his part in this sick, perverse game.

He knelt down beside his beaten friend. Carefully Jason turned the younger man onto his back.

"Reid," he called him gently. No response. Gideon brushed the longish brown strands of hair out of the young doctor's face. There were no bruises to be seen. _Of course not_, the older man mused inwardly. A battered face would spoil the business.

All the more damage had been inflicted to the rest of the agent's body. The unbuttoned shirt hung loosely around his torso. Gideon tried not to look too closely at the darkening skin on Reid's upper body.

The thought that – at least indirectly – he had caused all that pain was almost too much to bear for the former profiler. _If I hadn't told him to meet me at this damn club..._

However, Gideon came quickly to the conclusion that feelings of guilt wouldn't do any good here. He put Reid's head on his lap and reached for the small bottle. Maybe some liquid would help to revive the younger man's spirits.

Cautiously he let some water drop onto Reid's lips, just enough to moisten them a bit.

And actually he noticed a tiny twitch on the genius' face. Encouraged, the older man tried again: "Reid, you need to wake up now." Stroking his hair back tenderly.

Reid's eyelids fluttered open. It took him a few moments to get his blurred vision clearer. When he could finally see the face above his head he jerked back, trying to get away from the other man, pressing himself against the nearest wall.

The sudden movement caused the prior pain to return with overwhelming power. Whimpering Reid brought his knees to his chest, an attempt to make himself as small as possible. Trying not to provide these violent men with a target.

"Reid, it's okay, I won't hurt you," Gideon soothed, his tone gentle.

The younger man reacted with pulling his legs even closer to his body. He rested his forehead on his knees. As if he could make all evil go away by pretending it wasn't there.

Sighing Jason scratched the back of his head. Apparently the young profiler didn't recognize him. Of course, he was the last person Reid expected to meet here.

Gideon crouched down right in front of the shivering man. "Reid, look at me, please."

He switched into his profiler mode. Quiet but intense voice, emphasizing every single word.

"It's me. Gideon."

He watched how Reid's grip tightened around his legs. The shaking had stopped, but still he refused to lift his head.

"We don't have much time, Reid." Jason glanced at the cameras. Still turned off. Tristan wouldn't wait too long, impatient man that he was. Gideon looked at his friend again. There was one last ace up his sleeve. "_Spencer_."

Reid's head shot up instantly. Very few people used to call him by his first name. None of them were supposed to be here.

For several seconds he just looked at the other man's face, his expression completely incredulous.

Finally: "What are you doing here?" Merely a whisper, or a hiss maybe. Hard to tell. No voice involved in any case.

"It's a long story. There's no time for explanations right now. Just listen," Gideon replied in a rush.

And to make sure the younger man paid attention: "Are you listening? It's important."

Dumbfounded, Reid simply nodded.

"As soon as I'm gone Tristan will expect you to co-operate," Gideon began. "Do nothing to defy him. You cannot win. He will only send his men in here to hurt you. Do you understand me?"

A nod.

"Do whatever he wants you to do. I'll get you out soon. You trust me, right?"

_No_ nod.

An angry knock on the door.

Gideon sighed again. "Reid, I have to go now. I'll get help. Just hang on a bit longer."

"Take me with you," the younger man pleaded, this time with a small voice.

The older man got up. "I can't. Not yet. There are too many guards." He turned and reached for the door handle.

"Don't go! Gideon!" Rising panic.

The retired profiler shook his head. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Without looking back, Gideon opened the door and left.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Beta reader from now on: **editor frog**.

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 13**

The world was black again.

Silently Gideon sat in the back seat of the SUV driven by the familiar mindless goon. Only the two of them. Tristan Stuart had preferred to stay with Reid for while... Those had been his final words to Jason before their farewell.

Now the blindfold was back and with it the darkness. Nothing to distract Jason from the disturbing scenarios that created themselves in the back of his mind.

It had taken his full will power to leave Reid behind in the cold white room. Like a wounded animal, the young profiler had huddled against the concrete wall. Frightened and confused. Abandoned once again.

But there was nothing more he could have done for his friend. Gideon knew that. Tristan had been waiting right behind the metal door, eager to hear the older man's report.

"_How did it go?" Curious Tristan._

"_He'll be compliant from now on." Earnest Jason._

"_Good." Pleased Tristan._

"_He needs medical treatment." Earnest Jason._

"_If you say so." Bored Tristan._

"_I'm serious." Earnest Jason._

"_Don't worry. He'll see a doctor. I need him intact...to a certain degree." Amused Tristan._

After that short conversation Gideon had been led back to the car. They'd agreed to meet again at the restaurant the next evening.

There were always several sessions necessary to get the new employees subservient enough to be of value.

Now, in the middle of the night, sitting blindly in the back seat of the black SUV, Gideon made a decision what to do next. There was no other way anymore. It was the last plan he could think of. If he failed...

No, failing was not an option. He was determined to get Reid out of there. And he knew who would help him with that.

* * *

Hotch had finally fallen asleep. He'd spent about twenty minutes in this much needed state of unconsciousness when his cell phone rang.

Still lying on his front he awkwardly stretched his right arm towards the nightstand, fumbling for the disruptive element.

When Hotch got a hold of the noisy thing some seconds later he felt the overwhelming urge to smash it against the wall. Instead, of course, he answered the call.

"Hotchner." No need to sound friendly at 3 am.

"We got him, Agent Hotchner!" Excited, familiar voice on the other side.

"Wolfe, is that you? What do you mean?" Sitting upright now. Full attention.

"The kill...uhm, the Unsub. My officers caught him," the detective exclaimed and began to explain: "He was just about to..."

"I'm on my way," Hotch cut him short and quit the call. He was already on his feet, fiddling with his tie. Despite of his lack of sleep he was suddenly wide awake, his mind racing.

If this was true, if Wolfe had actually arrested the Unsub, then it won't take much longer to get to Reid.

Hastily Hotch put on his suit and left the hotel room to alert the other team members.

They had work to do.

* * *

The creaking sound again.

For the tiniest moment Reid hoped that Gideon had come back to take him along. Then he saw Tristan accessing the white room and let his head drop again.

The man with the jacket stood in front of the young agent who was still cowering on the floor.

"Dr. Reid, I hope you were enjoying the surprise," Tristan said. Cheerful, in spite of the late – or early – hour. "Since Jason is a mutual friend of ours I thought it'd be nice to invite him here."

_Mutual friend?_ Reid was confused. Why would Gideon be chummy with someone like Tristan?

The profiler began to wonder what exactly the retired agent had been doing during the months since his retirement.

His captor remained silent, obviously expecting some kind of reaction, so Reid gave it a try.

"H...how do you kn...know him?" That appeared to be a justified question.

"Jason?" Tristan inquired. As if there were a variety of other potential common friends.

Reid merely nodded, neither in the mood nor in the condition to give a smart-ass answer.

"Well, to cut a long story short...He works for me. He's a very gifted man. Knows how to persuade people," Tristan explained.

Satisfied with the incredulous expression on Reid's face, Tristan went on: "It's also rather advantageous to have such well-informed people like Jason amongst ones staff. People who are willing to share their valuable insights."

_He's lying_, Reid thought and blurted: "Gideon would never reveal anything to guys like you."

Tristan's eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms and gave Spencer an assessing glare. "I'm not sure where all this faith in Jason's loyalty comes from," he said slowly. "How, do you think, I came to know all the private facts about your life, Dr. Reid?"

Reid swallowed. How many times had he asked himself the exact same question? But why would Gideon give away personal information to a dangerous criminal like Tristan? There had to be a reason. He just didn't get it, yet.

Spencer just wanted to ask where his mentor had disappeared when the door opened again.

_That never bodes well_, Reid noted inwardly. He couldn't take another beating from this Charlie guy tonight.

The person who joined them, however, wasn't Charlie.

"Dr. Howards, thanks for coming at this ungodly hour," Tristan greeted the tall, big and bald-headed man. They shook hands.

The new arrival looked at the skinny kid on the ground. "So this is the patient?"

"Yeah, he spent some time with Charlie," the younger man explained. "Got a little rough."

Laughing. Both men were apparently amused.

Terrified Reid watched how they enjoyed themselves at his expense. He protectively wrapped his arms around his bruised torso, even tighter than before. His knees were still drawn up to his chest.

The laughter finally faded. Two pairs of eyes now focused on Spencer.

"Let's have a look then," big guy finally broke the silence and approached the profiler.

_Oh God._

Reid tried to move. Move away from this suspicious person who claimed to be a doctor. He did not want to be touched by this man, not for anything in the world. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?

Tristan noticed his captive's pathetic attempt to crawl away and grabbed his weapon. He moved quickly.

For the second time since his abduction Reid found himself looking into the barrel of a gun.

"Where do you think you're going? Take off those hideous clothes and let Dr. Howards do his job," Tristan ordered in a very icy tone of voice. "It's for your own good, after all. And if it makes it any easier...It was Jason's idea to get the doctor here."

He took a step back again and put away the gun.

Warily Reid eyed Tristan, then shifted his gaze towards the bigger man who crouched only few inches away. Ready to fulfill his duty.

Spencer really, really wanted to protest again. The prospect of exposing himself again in front of these horrible people was anything but appealing. Then he remembered Gideon's advice not to defy Tristan.

"_Do whatever he wants you to do..."_

Wincing at the dull pain in his upper body and aware of the scrutinizing stares from his tormentors, Reid began to take off his shirt.

* * *

No-one spoke on the drive to the police station. Hotch had told his agents about Wolfe's call, but hadn't felt like discussing the situation any further.

He did notice of course that his teammates looked as tired as he did. None of them had been able to get much sleep. There was no way they could relax as long as one of their own was at the mercy of an obviously well organized, violent criminal.

The moment the car stopped in front of the police headquarters they jumped out and almost ran inside.

"Where's Wolfe?" Hotch asked a random officer without preamble.

With a slightly irritated expression the policeman indicated down the corridor. "He's in the interrogation room with the whore killer."

The profilers paid no attention to the inappropriate phrasing, but went straight towards the room.

Through the large window they could see Detective Wolfe talking insistently to the large man sitting restrained on a wooden chair.

"That's him," Morgan stated immediately. "Hotch, that's the guy who attacked Reid in the video!"

The team leader nodded. No doubt there.

Just in time he noticed Derek getting ready to storm into the room. Hotch grabbed hold of the younger man's upper arm and held him back.

"Stop, Morgan," he ordered with the most authoritative tone he managed. "You need to stay calm."

"Stay calm? After all what the bastard did you want me to stay calm?" Morgan inquired angrily. "He killed six people and beat the hell out of Reid. Give me five minutes..."

"No," Hotch shot back, desperately trying to maintain his composure himself. "He's our only link to Reid. We can't blow this chance."

He looked Morgan straight in the eye. Hesitantly the younger profiler turned towards JJ and Prentiss, wordlessly asking for their opinion.

A synchronous nod. A small one only. Both women seemed to be fond of Morgan's original plan, but reason won this round.

Sighing Morgan eyed the suspect behind the pane of glass. Fists clenched. Jaw set. Definitely pissed off, but willing to hold on his fire. For now.

"I'll handle things in there," Hotch said quietly and entered the interrogation room.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 14**

The floor was cold and hard. Reid lay flat on his back, his eyes fixing on a random spot on the white ceiling.

He could hear voices. Tristan and the other man were talking casually about everything and anything.

He didn't listen, though. Reid was way too busy with trying to block out the strong fingers that were touching his body. Groping, probing, pressing against tender skin.

They'd forced him to strip down to his boxers. Even though, in fact, his legs hadn't received much damage through the beating. This was malice in its pure form. Tristan took pleasure in constantly exploring new ways to torture his captive.

Sometimes humiliation was the most effective method to break a man. As an experienced profiler, Reid understood that only too well. On a rational level he knew that he couldn't give up. If he freaked out now that would only satisfy these bastard's sadistic desires. No, he had to keep calm.

Suddenly the young profiler felt the molesting fingers move from his collar bone down to his ribs, never losing contact to Reid's skin. Then the fingers stopped at a spot near the breast bone. And pressed sharply.

Reid yelped.

"Oh, did that hurt? I'm sorry," Howards said in an apologetic tone.

He pressed again at the same spot.

This time Spencer managed to muffle the potential outcry. Only a pained whimper escaped his lips.

The big man above him snickered. "Just wanted to make sure that I interpreted your strange noise in the right way."

The fingers moved again, probing the sensitive area just below Reid's costal arch.

The agent gritted his teeth, unwilling to show these men how painful this never-ending procedure actually was. Not only in the physical way. Reid had never felt so exposed and vulnerable before, not even during his first kidnapping. The thought that his team, especially Gideon, had been forced to watch the abuse was still enough to make feel sick. But at least he'd been allowed to stay dressed then.

Now this last piece of dignity had been wrested away from him.

Nevertheless Reid was determined not to reveal his weakness and fear any more. He wouldn't give them what they were seeking.

All of a sudden the fingers were gone.

Howards stood up again. "Charlie knows his craft," he announced, looking down at his shivering patient. "Some ribs are rather bruised, but I couldn't detect any fractures. There don't seem to be serious internal injuries either," the doctor stated firmly.

Tristan put on a pleased smile. "Yeah, Charlie knows how to inflict pain without wasting something valuable like this," he said, indicating to Reid.

"You should give him something to eat, though," Dr. Howards suggested humorously. "In my opinion he's way too skinny."

Both men's gazes directed at Reid again.

"Nah, doesn't really matter," Tristan commented dismissively. "Skinny or fat, tall or short...it's just a question of taste eventually. And this one has an exceptionally pretty face."

The bigger man snorted. "Though it's not his face you want to sell..."

_Sell? _

Reid's eyes widened. For the first time since the examination had started he tore his stare away from the spot on the ceiling and shifted his gaze towards his captor.

The small movement was not lost on Tristan. The smile broadened. "Oh, that's a pity. Now you spoiled the surprise," he exclaimed with fake disappointment. The statement was directed at Howards but his gaze remained fixed on Reid.

"Before I introduce you to your new field of work, however, I need to ask you some personal questions," Tristan explained. Cheerful voice once again. "That's protocol, you know."

The man with the jacket gave Dr. Howards a small nod, signalizing that the bigger man's presence was no longer required.

As soon as the door shut behind the doctor, Tristan's full attention focused on Reid again.

"Alright, the first question is a very basic one: Do you prefer male or female partners? Gideon uttered a certain suspicion, but wasn't quite sure."

Reid stared at his tormentor. He opened his mouth only to shut it again a second later.

Tristan drew his gun and stroked the barrel absent-mindedly. "Well?"

* * *

Aaron Hotchner sat across from the suspect that was not an Unsub anymore. For a few minutes the senior profiler didn't bother to look at the restrained large man, but flipped through the handwritten notes Wolfe had given him before exiting the room.

Actually it took only seconds to scan the tenuous information about the circumstances of the arrest. But Hotch didn't want to appear too eager, too excited. He had to keep calm if he wanted to get any clues about Reid's whereabouts. Empirically nothing was more effective to drive a suspect over the edge than obvious imperturbability.

Finally Aaron lifted his head slightly and looked the other man straight in the eye.

"What's your name?" Quiet, even voice of his.

The larger man tried to hold Hotch's gaze, but failed miserably. "Charlie," he replied truthfully, looking anywhere but at the profiler.

"Charlie," Hotch repeated, inwardly sighing with relief that the guy didn't refuse to speak at all.

"How old are you?" Easy questions to create an atmosphere of comfort. It was hard but Aaron needed to cozy the guy along in order to get behind his personal walls of self-protection.

"32," Charlie said, his voice betraying his current insecurity. He was still not sure how he'd gotten himself into this situation. Everything had been fine, he'd been hunting like so many times before. Then he'd seen this cute little rent boy... But when he'd tried to drag the kid into that damn alley he'd suddenly found himself surrounded by about a billion cops. More or less. And now he had to deal with this man in the suit who moved and spoke like some kind of robot. Tristan didn't pay well enough for this crap. That was for sure.

"Good. And you're from Vegas?" Aaron continued, noticing that this conversation wasn't so different from his early dating experiences with girls when he'd been an adolescent.

"Ehm, yeah, was born here," the arrested man confirmed, seemingly more at ease now. These questions weren't so bad, he thought to himself. He wasn't at risk to rat the boss out.

What Charlie didn't take into consideration was that there were more observers behind the large mirror. Namely Hotch's colleagues.

The moment their team leader had drawn out some basic information Morgan made the call. It was in the middle of the night but he was sure to reach his favorite tech girl. There was no way she would've left her office as long as one of their own was in danger.

"Goddess of wisdom speaking," Garcia greeted hastily.

"Hey baby girl, it's Morgan. Listen, we..."

The tech specialist cut him off. "Any news about Reid?" She couldn't imagine anything more grueling than sitting alone in Quantico, unable to do anything to help their genius.

"Maybe. I'll send you a picture of our suspect, along with some facts about him," Derek explained. "I need you to gather as much information as possible about the guy. Family, education, possible past crimes, things like that."

"I'm on it," Garcia replied curtly and hung up.

* * *

Meanwhile Reid was throwing up. In fact it was more some sort of violent dry retching - after all there were no stomach contents to vomit. Only stinging acid creeping up his esophagus.

With a disgusted expression Tristan watched the pitiful drama, hoping that it'd be over soon. He hated things like that.

"You're done now?" The man with the jacket asked harshly when the choking noises subsided. Who could've guessed that the boy's reaction to such a simple question would be so immoderate?

He saw Reid resting on his right elbow, desperately trying to get his body under control again.

Tristan sighed. It was late and he really wanted to call it a day. He was just about to bow himself out when his cell phone rang.

"Yeah," he answered the call, clearly irritated.

Listening.

Frowning.

"I see. Thanks for the hint," Tristan said thoughtfully and quit the call.

"Dr. Reid, I'm afraid we'll have to finish our conversation elsewhere."

* * *

Hotch was slowly getting to the point.

"Tell me what you were doing out there tonight, Charlie," he demanded in the same calm tone he'd used at the beginning of the interrogation.

This time, however, the suspect remained silent.

The senior profiler pushed further. "They caught you with the boy. Obviously you were trying to isolate him, drag him into a dark, deserted alley," he recalled, closely watching any change in Charlie's facial features. "Found a nice place to slaughter him?"

Still no reaction. Obviously this man had been programmed not to answer such questions. Hotch knew that Charlie was just a handyman working for someone else. For the real Unsub, so to speak. The profiler needed to get to the man behind the curtain if he wanted to find Reid in time.

Unfortunately Aaron had no clue how to get this information out of this stubborn goon.

Of course, he couldn't know that an old acquaintance was already on his way to help solving the riddle.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 15**

Two large, dumb blokes dragged Reid through the deserted building. Each of them took hold of one of his upper arms. The young profiler tried to keep up with their pace, but failed most of the time. Every now and again the goons lifted him off his feet in order to move forward more quickly.

Tristan was close behind the trio, urging them to hurry. Despite of his relaxed nature the young fashionable man was slightly worried now. One of his informants had just told him that Charlie had been taken in police custody. Caught in the act.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

Although Tristan was pretty sure that none of his employees would ever spill any business secrets, he decided it'd be better to move. He didn't want to take unnecessary risks, especially now that he had this Fed in his pocket.

"Come on, boys, get a move on," Tristan ordered and pushed them with his hands. From behind he could take a good look at his captive who was still only wearing his boxers. There hadn't been enough time to get the kid dressed properly. And, in all honesty, it was much more fun to leave it that way.

Howards had been right, Tristan couldn't help but admit to himself – this boy was indeed very skinny. But not too skinny. The businessman had already some clients in mind who liked their goods to be bony.

The prospect of the large profit he was going to make with this one was enough to brighten up his mood – despite of the minor incident with Charlie. If the cops would blame the fool for the murders, then so be it. There were lots of other capable men amongst Tristan's stuff.

Finally the group reached the outside. It wasn't completely dark anymore. The floating transition from deep night to dawn.

The air was cool and caused goosebumps all over Reid's body. Not too gently the two large men pushed him into the back seat of another black SUV. One of them took a seat next to him to make sure that the captive wouldn't try anything during the drive.

Spencer looked out of the window. Tristan was talking to the other goon, obviously giving instructions. He watched his captor climbing into another car, then driving away. The agent was both relieved and terrified. On the one side he was rather fed up with the sadistic games Tristan loved to play. Then again, the thought of being left alone with these thugs wasn't a very comfortable one.

As soon as the second man had sat down behind the wheel, he started the engine. Reid wrapped his arms around his naked upper body, an attempt to hide as much skin as possible from the peculiar glances the goon to his right sent in his direction.

As the car bent into the street the young doctor closed his eyes, trying to block out the horrible scenarios about what his tormentors might have in store for him on the second day of his captivity.

* * *

Hotch stood in front of the oversized window, watching the pointless interrogation Wolfe was doing with their suspect. Apart from very basic personal information, Charlie had given away nothing. To the unit chief he didn't appear to be overly self-confident or comfortable with the situation. Quite the reverse: This man's behavior reminded of a little boy who'd got caught stealing candy bars in the grocery store. Charlie was insecure, nervous and definitely not the smartest guy.

But nonetheless he remained silent when it came to key questions regarding the case.

Frustrated Hotch watched the detective's failing attempts to get some answers. He knew it wouldn't work. Knew it since his first chat with the suspect two hours ago. The team leader rubbed sighing his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

"You alright, man?" Morgan's sudden question startled the senior profiler. Hotch didn't reply. Of course, he was far from being alright.

"Just brought you some coffee," Derek said soothingly, accepting his boss' wish to ignore the first question. "Though you could do with some caffeine."

Gratefully Hotch took the hot drink. Due to his lack of sleep he really needed something to wake him up.

Both profilers stood in front of the window, blowing at the surface of their coffee to cool it down.

The thoughtful silence was broken by the disturbingly funny ring tone coming from the inside of Morgan's trousers. Awkwardly he fished his cell phone out of the pocket.

"It's Garcia," he told Hotch hastily and flipped the phone open to answer the call. "Tell me you got something, sweetness!"

"Superfluous question, muffin," the team's tech girl replied. Morgan pressed the loudspeaker button of his cell, so Hotch could hear everything.

"Your suspect's name is Charles Barnes. Born 1976 in a shelter in Las Vegas. Lived in a children's home till the age of 15. Dad unknown, mom was a junkie and died shortly after Charlie's birth." Garcia paused to draw breath. "Long criminal record. He spent several months in prison. Battery, robbery, rape – all that the heart can desire."

"So he's a quasi-orphan," Morgan mused. "I guess there are no other relatives listed we could talk to?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Penelope stated regretfully. "There's also no information about an actual address available. Sorry."

"It's okay. Keep digging," Morgan said. He put the cell phone back into his pocket and faced his boss, waiting for a reaction.

"That's not very helpful." Hotch exhaled slowly and took another sip of his coffee. "Maybe we should show him the video, let him know that we have clear evidence."

Morgan thought about the idea. After some seconds he nodded his approval. "Let's give it a try."

* * *

Reid awoke with a jolt. Literally. The car stopped very abruptly. He could hardly believe that he'd actually managed to fall asleep only inches away from this potentially violent guy. Sure, he was severely exhausted. He hadn't been able to get much sleep ever since their departure from Quantico.

In the white room he'd passed out several times. But forced unconsciousness just couldn't provide the same restful effect that came along with some hours of real sleep.

Warily Reid looked out of the window. It seemed to be early in the morning, so they must have been on the road for at least one hour. Very far away from his previous imprisonment.

The young profiler had no idea what had brought on this rushed change of location. It wasn't hard to imagine, however, that this development wouldn't make it any easier for his team to find him.

A cold air draft startled him out of his musing. The door to his left was opened by the driver. The large guy grabbed Reid roughly at his already bruised upper arm and dragged him out of the car.

On legs that felt like jelly Spencer tried desperately to keep in step with the two men. He didn't want to be lifted again. That made him feel even more defenseless and pathetic. Reid began to wonder what Hotch or Morgan would do in this situation. Probably fight to the death. They would never allow these people to debase them like that. He was sure of it.

Suddenly he became aware of his environment. There were no buildings, no cars, not even a proper street to be seen. Obviously they were far away from any civilization. Outside of the city. In the desert? Why would they take him into the desert? Reid was confused.

About hundred feet away from the car the goons stopped. One of them was still holding Reid's meanwhile numb arm, the other man bent wordlessly down.

Now the profiler could see it. There was some sort of metal door set into the ground. The new hiding-place was underground then. He swallowed. How would his teammates ever be able to figure this out?

The first man opened the door and started to climb downwards.

Hesitantly Reid looked down into the seemingly bottomless abyss that was slowly devouring the large guy. The agent was pushed forward.

He faced the other man that stood close to him with a quizzical expression.

"Ladies first," the guy said smirking and indicated to the dark hole in the ground.

Reid looked around. Not a living soul that could possibly help him.

A silent groan.

Slowly Reid climbed down into his own personal hell.

* * *

Meanwhile the remains of the BAU-team and some officers from the local PD were discussing options. According to Hotch's suggestion they'd shown Charlie the video. The suspect had watched the beating with a facial expression that could only be described as pride. Apparently this man was admiring his handiwork. But even after being confronted with that undeniable piece of evidence Charlie had refused to answer any questions.

"He may have committed these murders, but he's not the man who's pulling the strings in this case," Morgan stated firmly. "Why would he abduct Reid? That seems to be far too complicated to be staged by him."

"I agree," Aaron said calmly. "Perhaps the killings will stop now, but we're nowhere near close from finding Reid."

Oppressive silence engulfed the office. No-one knew how to react appropriately.

"Maybe I can help you with that." The unexpected, casual offer broke through the silence like thunder in a peaceful night.

Everyone's eyes focused now on the man who stood in the doorframe.

"Gideon?" JJ shrieked.

But Hotch couldn't hear her. Neither did Gideon. The gazes of both senior profilers locked.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 16**

Four pairs of eyes were focused on the closed door. Three brains imagined what was happening on the other side, which words were being said. The fourth brain didn't imagine anything. It was filled with lots of fat question marks. This brain belonged to Detective Wolfe.

"What's going on? Who is this guy?" Two of the most urgent queries, addressed at no one in particular. The policeman was at a loss. He continued staring at the wooden door. He wasn't sure why, though. Probably just because everyone else did.

Since Agent Hotchner and the other man had wordlessly disappeared in the other room there hadn't been any further explanation. With a significant amount of will power Thomas Wolfe finally managed to shift his gaze away from the door.

Expectantly – and by now rather impatiently – he looked at the three remaining agents. All of them appeared to be completely thunderstruck.

"Agent Morgan," the detective began with an insecure tone of voice. "Would you tell me what this is about?" Waiting. Scratching the back of his head. "Uhm, please?"

Without taking his eyes off the door, Derek replied: "I have no idea."

* * *

Only few feet away, separated from the others only by the closed wooden door, were two veteran profilers who had worked together for many years.

It had been several months since Gideon's backdoor retreat from the Unit. The circumstances of his unexpected reunion with the team were regrettably unfavorable.

Jason was glad that he could talk to Hotch in private first. As soon as he'd shown up in the police office the team leader had silently led him to the vacant room. That was about two minutes ago. Tiredly the retired federal agent had slumped into the first chair available.

Hotch preferred to stand. With his arms crossed he leaned against the wall. He kept his eyes at his former colleague who – on his part – scrutinized the folded hands on his lap.

The team leader didn't know where to start. Actually he wasn't even sure if it was his turn to initiate the conversation.

The younger man was just considering which question would be the best one to begin with when Gideon finally raised his head.

"I talked to Reid." To the point. Straight look at Hotch.

Aaron didn't move. "When?" he asked instantly, trying to keep calm. No need to freak out. Not yet.

"A few hours ago."

Now Hotch moved. He pushed himself away from the wall and unfolded his arms.

"What did you just say?"

Gideon sighed. "I said that I talked to Reid some hours ago." Warily he watched the other profiler's reaction.

"I heard what you said," the unit chief stated impatiently. "But I don't understand. Where is he? How did you find him? What do you ..."

"Alright, stop it," Gideon interrupted the rambling interrogation. "I understand that you have a lot of questions and I've come here to tell you what I know."

Hotch looked Gideon in the eye for several seconds. An attempt to evaluate the skilled ex-profiler, to figure out if he could be trusted. It had never been an easy task to read Jason Gideon. Today was no different.

_Some things never change_, the profiler thought and moved slowly towards another chair. It was probably better to take a seat. Exhaling, he sat down.

"Go ahead," he said quietly, wondering what kind of information the older man was willing to reveal.

"The name of Reid's captor is Tristan Stuart," Gideon began. "Stuart is the head of the most powerful prostitution cartel in Las Vegas. I've worked with him for two months."

At this point Hotch had to raise all his will power in order to keep his mouth shut. He was sure there would be an explanation. So he took some deep breaths and listened.

"This organization, however, is not confined to Vegas. It expanded all over the country in the last couple of years," Gideon explained evenly.

He paused to give Hotch a chance to let the information sink in. He watched the younger man comprehending the facts.

"I see," Hotch said eventually. "But what exactly is your part in that game?"

Gideon smiled mildly. Justified question. "Shortly after I left the BAU I was entrusted with an undercover mission. It's my job to infiltrate the organization, gather information and evidence."

Hotch sighed, slightly relieved. There it was. The explanation.

"We have enough to get Stuart busted by now, but basically he's just a small cog in the wheel," the older man continued earnestly. "We need to get access to the persons behind the curtain."

Hotch nodded. That made sense so far. Still thousands of questions left, like the cause for the latest murders. They would have to discuss this special issue later. At the moment there was a more urgent aspect in need to be clarified.

"So what about Reid?" Hotch inquired. After all the state of their youngest team member was his primary concern right now. "You spoke with him? How is he? _Where_ is he?"

"They're keeping him in a deserted building somewhere on the outskirts of the city. I don't know the exact location," the retired profiler said.

Hotch was getting ready to interrupt but Gideon lifted his hand to shush the team leader. The younger man shut his mouth again.

"They blindfolded me during the drive," his former colleague explained calmly. "Tristan just wanted me to do my job with Reid. There wasn't enough time to assess the situation properly..."

"Wait! Wait a minute," Hotch intervened harshly. "Your _job_ with Reid? What's that supposed to mean?"

Gideon frowned. How to explain this without upsetting the other man too much?

"It's complicated," he started hesitantly. "I, uhm..., my 'job' is to prepare new...well, recruits. Stuart hired me to break down their personal walls and get them ready for their final purpose. It's really a matter of psychological treatment." Gideon watched his hands again, unable to meet Hotch's eyes.

Aaron stared at his old friend. He didn't even want to think about what Jason's statement implied. If Tristan Stuart was really a top-class pimp...

_Oh God._

"What is he planning to do with Reid?" Hotch barely dared to ask the obvious question. In fact he had a pretty good idea already. Not so much imagination necessary.

Gideon looked at him. "For now," he began very softly. "He'll proceed preparing him. There are several phases..."

* * *

Like bodyguards the two large men escorted Reid through the barely lit underground labyrinth. However, their function was not to protect him, but to prevent any attempts to escape.

Even if they would leave him alone now, Reid knew he'd never find his way out of this confusing enclosure.

It was cold. Still only clad in his boxers the agent shivered violently.

He felt chilled to the bones, hungry, tired and absolutely terrified. The goons half-dragged, half-shoved him quickly through the corridors. Reid's legs just wanted to give way when the pacing stopped abruptly.

The guy to his right fumbled with an impressive bunch of keys. Nervously the young profiler watched how the large bloke opened a door, he hadn't noticed before, with a small silvery key.

Thankfully it didn't creak when the man opened it. The guy stepped into the surprisingly very bright room. Reid followed involuntarily – roughly pushed through the doorframe by the other man.

His eyes needed a moment to get used to the sudden lightness. The profiler blinked several times, then he took a look around.

A white room again, not dissimilar to his prior prison cell. This time, however, the walls did not simply consist of concrete, but were covered with plain white tiles. So was the floor. Reid looked up. And the ceiling.

With horror the profiler noticed that there were large mirrors attached to each wall. Therefore the room appeared to be much more spaciously than it was indeed. It took them only three big steps to reach the other side of the room.

There they stood a moment, each one staying silent. It would have been an almost comical situation were the circumstances not so very dreadful to Reid.

Finally the man with the keys decided to say something.

"Boss wants you to clean yourself up," he said, sounding incredibly disinterested. He gestured towards the silver shower head which was set into the ceiling. Almost invisible.

Reid looked up. And down again. Completely aghast he shook his head, but remained silent. Outwardly. In his mind he was screaming.

"Not a request, boy," the man with the key growled. He nodded to his colleague who left the room. Only few moments later he came back with several shower utensils. Soap, shampoo and even a sponge. He put the things on the ground.

Reid watched the whole procedure, unsure how to react. He didn't want to get wet with only his boxers covering his body. On the other hand he didn't want to provoke these goons. They would hurt him like Charlie had done. He was sure of it.

It turned out that the decision was not Reid's anyway. Wordlessly both men left the room. The shaking captive heard the door being locked again.

He had just enough time to notice the tiny red lights twinkling in the corners of the ceiling. Like in his prior prison cell.

Then the water came.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 17**

There was nowhere to go really. At first Reid tried to flee from the unwanted washing by pressing himself against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, there were more of those almost invisible shower heads set into the ceiling.

Such being the case, he could only stand and let it happen. After being imprisoned and pushed around all day and all night through Reid felt indeed extremely filthy and very sticky. Since there was no way to escape the water, he decided he could as well use the chance and clean himself up.

With trembling hands he soaped himself, being particularly careful with his bruised upper body. At least the water had a pleasant temperature. Reid was surprised by this - for some reason he'd expected it to be cold. Perhaps Tristan didn't want him to become ill.

While massaging the shampoo into his longish hair, the agent glanced up at the tiny cameras every now and again. The idea of being watched under the shower was almost enough to make him sick. He stood very close to the wall. Facing it, of course. At this point Reid was glad to wear dark blue boxers and not plain white ones.

Suddenly the water stopped. Startled, Reid looked up. The movement caused some of the shampoo to run into his eyes. It burned terribly and got even worse when he tried to rub the soapy liquid away with his hands.

_Great_, he thought wryly. Now he did not only look like a drowned rat, but was also as blind as a bat. He could hear, though, and right now he heard the door being unlocked, then opened again. Splashing sounds. Steps on the wet floor.

Silently a towel was handed to Reid. Quickly he pressed it against his eyes, trying to remove the stinging remains of the shampoo. He blinked several times and dared a look. Right into the dumb face of the guy with the keys. Not a nice sight, but a sight nonetheless.

The young doctor continued toweling himself. The goon watched. When Reid was done the larger man grabbed him roughly at his upper arm and led him out of the white room.

With wet shorts and damp hair the profiler was once more escorted through the underground maze.

Some minutes and lots of turns later the man stopped in front of another door. It looked exactly like the previous one, but on the wall beside Reid the young man noticed a small nameplate.

_Matt._

The agent didn't have enough time to think about the tag because the guy shoved him unceremoniously into the room. It was also painted white, but without tiles.

Swiftly the captive looked up. No shower heads this time. Good. But again there were tiny cameras in each corner of the ceiling. Reid was getting really tired of those.

The small room was sparsely furnished. There was a wretched bed with a wooden frame and a time-worn mattress that had certainly known better days. Next to the bed stood a plain wooden table and in the far corner there was a toilet. At that view Reid suddenly realized that he hadn't felt the urge to use the bathroom until now. Well, no food and barely any water over the last thirty hours would be an explanation for that.

As if on cue the second goon entered the room. He was holding a plastic plate with some bread, a banana and a small bottle of water on it. Slowly the man put it on the table.

"Boss wants you to eat," he simply said and turned to leave. The guy with the keys followed.

Reid watched the door being closed. Sighing he sat down on the ragged bed. It squeaked.

Suspiciously the agent eyed the food. Then the toilet. Then the cameras.

His stomach rumbled.

He sighed again.

* * *

Morgan was fed up. More than thirty minutes had passed since Hotch and Gideon had disappeared in the vacant office.

_That's enough_, he thought impatiently. They had work to do. They had to find their youngest team member. Hardly the time for small talk.

Decisively he started to move towards the room.

"Morgan, what are you doing?" JJ asked alertly.

Her colleague turned around once more. "I wanna know what this is about. Don't you?"

Of course they did. JJ and Prentiss were just as curious as Morgan. Both women let their gaze drop to the floor. Detective Wolfe looked confused, still completely out of his depth.

Derek interpreted his teammate's silence as approval and turned again to open the door forcefully.

"Morgan!" Hotch hissed and stood up quickly. He was not happy about the uncalled-for interruption. "What do you want?"

Morgan stared at his boss in disbelief, then at Gideon who was sitting and watching.

"What I want?" he repeated his superior's question angrily. "You guys have been in here for ages, leaving us guessing and staring at this damn closed door! What I want is to know what's going on!"

Morgan looked Hotch straight in the eye, deliberately ignoring Gideon. "Why's he here?"

When Hotch replied, his voice was very low and icy. "First of all, you're completely out of line, Morgan. For once I'm going to let this pass because I know you're worried about Reid," he said in his most authoritative tone.

Morgan hung his head in shame, aware that he'd reacted far too heatedly.

Seeing this gesture of defeat, the team leader went on more gently. "Gideon wanted to talk to me in private first. He told me some interesting things which will be very helpful to find Reid."

Morgan felt hope raising inside his chest and looked expectantly at the senior profilers. "Go ahead," he encouraged. "I could do with some good news."

"Well, _good_ is not exactly the word...," Gideon said hesitantly.

"Wait," Hotch interrupted quickly. "Get the others here first. It'd be of no use to repeat everything three times."

Hastily Morgan fetched the girls and Wolfe.

The group gathered around Gideon. The retired profiler began to tell his story.

At least parts of it...

* * *

"Dr. Reid! How's it going?" Cheerful voice was back.

Reid jumped. After a few bites of bread, he'd laid down on the squeaking bed. Had he fallen asleep? How much time had passed? Hard to tell with no windows, let alone a watch.

Confused he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. After a few seconds he recognized the man who stood in front of the bed.

"Tristan...," he stated with a hoarse voice.

"Indeed, indeed," the guy with the suit (a gray one this time) confirmed thoughtfully. "So you wanna be on Christian name terms. That's fine with me. Then, how's it going, _Matt_?"

_What? _

"My name isn't Matt. It's Spencer," Reid set his captor straight. He tried to sound confident, but suddenly remembered the name tag at the door. The thought caused an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Little correction: You're name _was_ Spencer," Tristan said, smiling maliciously. "From now on you will answer to the name of Matt. It's more suitable."

Reid wanted to throw up again. Perhaps it had been a mistake to eat the bread.

The increasing paleness on the agent's face didn't remain unnoticed.

Tristan grabbed the untouched banana and placed it onto Reid's lap. "You should eat more fruits, Matt. You look so unhealthy. It's not good for the business." Shark-like grin.

The sight of the banana on his legs, combined with the direction this conversation took, was too much.

Abruptly Reid stood up. Just in time he reached the toilet and puked out his minor stomach contents.

With crossed arms Tristan watched his captive retching violently. Sighing he bent down to pick up the neglected banana. He put it back on the plate.

"You do have a vomit issue. We have to work on this," he said in all seriousness. From behind he could see Reid's trembling thin body, the spine clearly visible. Frowning Tristan eyed the remains on the plate once more. He came to a decision.

"We will continue with the next phase later," he announced finally. "Until then I want you to finish off the food. And keep it down!"

He threw the kneeling boy on the floor one last glance and left the room.

* * *

From a distance Reid heard someone talking about food, vomiting and a 'next phase'. Did he want to know the meaning of all that? He had his doubts. In fact he didn't want to think about it right now. Couldn't think about it.

His whole body was shaking. A feeling of entire emptiness spread within his chest.

Reid knew what was happening. They wanted to take everything away from him. His courage, his confidence, his clothes and eventually even his identity.

Slowly he dragged himself back to the bed and lay down, trying to calm down his body as well as his mind. He wondered if the team had any idea what had happened to him. Were they already on their way?

_Hardly_, he mused bitterly. How would they ever be able to find him in an underground labyrinth in the desert?

His thoughts went to Gideon again. How could he just leave? Reid didn't understand his mentor's actions.

With a disturbing feeling of utter betrayal the young agent fell asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 18**

Gideon draw a deep breath. In a stroke he'd told his former colleagues the same things he'd revealed to Hotch before. All about Tristan Stuart, the undercover mission, even about the threat against Reid and his short meeting with the genius in the white room.

Completely drained Gideon sat back in his chair. The only thing he could do now was wait and see how the others would react.

For what seemed like an eternity, though it was really just few moments, no one spoke. Hotch had taken a backseat. The team leader leaned against the wall, wondering how his co-workers would take in the provided information.

"Was it a trap?" Like a sharp sword, Morgan's hissed question cut through the heavy silence.

Everyone's eyes focused now on the young agent.

Gideon frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Reid got kidnapped on his way to a 'secret meeting' you arranged," Morgan recalled, trying to keep his voice low. "Coincidence? Hard to believe."

The tension in the office became almost unbearable. Knowing his temperamental agent all too well, Hotch braced himself for the storm to come.

Morgan made himself clear. "I'm asking you, if you deliberately lured Reid into a trap, Gideon."

The older man rose from his chair and took a step towards the younger man. He looked his former colleague straight into the eye and stated calmly: "Of course not. I'd never endanger Reid or any of you on purpose."

Morgan exploded. "Is that a joke?!" He was shouting now. "You knew about the threat against Reid. But instead of telling Hotch about it, you isolated the kid and practically presented him on a silver tray!"

_True_, the unit chief agreed inwardly. Although the team leader was worried about Morgan's heated reaction, he decided not to intervene yet, but to give Gideon a chance to explain himself.

The older man tried. "Look, I'm sorry that Reid's in trouble," he said emphatically. "But I had to find a way of warning you without putting the mission at risk."

"The mission?" Morgan repeated angrily. "What kind of mission are we talking about, Gideon? You didn't even tell us which organization it is you're working for."

"I can't talk about details. It's top-secret and there are strict regulations I'm obliged to follow," the retired profiler justified.

Morgan snorted dismissively. Hotch didn't like Gideon's statement either. He was aware that his old friend had offered his talents also for the CIA in former times. He didn't know, however, for how long and to what extent Gideon had been working for other organizations. Hotch had never been overly fond of his colleague's secretiveness in this regard, but had accepted it because he'd respected and, well, needed Gideon's abilities. Now this concession seemed to backfire fatally.

"What's going to happen to Reid?" JJ's soft voice interrupted the men's noisy clash. Gideon looked at the media liaison who added with a slight quiver: "If we don't get him in time, I mean."

"We will save him," he assured in a gentle tone.

"But if not," the blond agent pressed. "What will they do to him?"

Sighing Gideon rubbed his forehead. "Tristan won't kill him," he stated firmly. "He's not stupid. If there's a chance to make profit with Reid, he will jump at it."

"You mean by... selling him?" Prentiss inquired nervously. She placed her hand on JJ's shoulder – a faint gesture of comfort, to her colleague as well as to herself.

"Well, I doubt that Tristan will sell him completely. He rarely does," Gideon said. "Mostly he keeps them and, uhm, _lends_ them temporarily."

Several seconds of uneasy silence followed. Again it was Morgan who put an end to it.

"So basically Stuart wants to use Reid as a whore."

The trenchant, disgusted statement caused Gideon to flinch. Hotch swallowed hard, the women let their gazes drop to the floor. Detective Wolfe looked perplexedly at Morgan, then at Gideon, then back at Morgan. He didn't know what to say. Figuring that the Feds didn't want him to interfere, the policeman kept silent.

"Am I right so far?" Derek asked angrily. It was a needless question, but he wanted to force Gideon into a definite answer.

"Yes."

Now that was clear.

With clenched teeth Morgan left the office. Quickly. He didn't want to destroy anything. He needed fresh air.

Hotch gave Prentiss a small nod. She guided JJ out, but knew better than to follow Morgan. Later, maybe. Not now.

Wolfe cleared his throat. "Uhm, I think I go and see if my men got any more information out of this Charlie-guy," he said and almost ran out of the room. To him this whole drama was more than awkward. Of course, he felt sorry for the geek boy, but didn't consider the Fed's abduction his problem. The head detective was just glad that he'd caught the killer. He didn't want to know about a nationwide prostitution cartel. They didn't pay him enough for crap like this.

The senior profilers were alone again. Wordlessly Hotch closed the door. Expectantly he looked at his former co-worker, though he wasn't quite sure what exactly it was he expected from him.

Gideon laughed humorlessly. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

* * *

The assault came out of the sudden. Reid didn't know how much time had passed since he'd fell asleep, but the wake-up call was anything but gentle.

The bed squeaked loudly as he was pinned down by a large man who put all his weight on the agent's slender body.

Reid squirmed, trying to push the assailant away, but it was a no-win situation.

"Keep still," the strong guy hissed. He grabbed the smaller man's left wrist and stretched his arm to the side.

"That's it," a familiar voice said. Tristan. "Now hold him in place."

He came closer to the bed, and stepped finally into Reid's field of view. He bent over and approached the younger man's arm with a syringe.

The moment Reid saw the needle, he freaked out.

"No! NO!" He was screaming now. Memories of his first kidnapping returned with full force. The young doctor strained every single fiber, gathered all strength he had left. He raised his knee and rammed it vigorously into his attacker's crotch.

Groaning and cursing the large man let go of Reid. He stepped back from the bed, covering the violated body part with his hands. The agent used the short moment of confusion to jump to his feet. The door was blocked by Tristan, so he fled into the most distant corner available. He pressed himself against the wall, never taking his eyes off his tormentors.

Reid was aware that he wouldn't be able to fend off another attack, but he was determined to at least give his best. He wouldn't allow them to drug him easily.

"You're being silly, Matt," Tristan exclaimed, sounding pretty patronizing. He was still holding the syringe in his right hand. "This is just to make the next phase easier for you."

With shaking fingers Reid shoved the long strands of hair out of his face.

"What 'next phase'?" Though he didn't really want to know the answer, he couldn't help but ask. After all, ignoring wouldn't prevent it from happening.

Tristan sat down on the bed, smiling at the squeaking sound. He motioned the goon to leave the room and put the needle on the table. For now.

"Let's make a deal, Matt."

"My name is Spencer."

"No, your name _was_ Spencer. Told you that already. Now listen and don't interrupt me again." The captor drew his gun to underline his words. "Understood?"

Reid nodded. He slid down the wall, unable to stay any longer on his wobbly legs.

"So here's how it works," Tristan began. "Since your friends refused to grant my demands, I have to profit from you in another way. Considering your appearance..." He paused and gave Reid a winning smile. "Uhm, let's say you fit into my business pretty well."

"What do you mean?" the young profiler questioned, though he had a good idea already.

Tristan snickered spitefully. "That's cute. You're so naive." He shook his head in obvious amusement. "You will offer special services to my clients. In return we'll let you stay here, provide you with food and water and, uhm, the ,fun' comes with the job..."

"Not interested. Thank you," Reid spat in disgust. He didn't care anymore if he upset these people. To hell with Gideon's words of wisdom.

Slightly surprised by this new rebellious attitude, Tristan arose from the bed, fumbling with the syringe again.

"I won't take your drugs," the profiler said as firmly as possible. Anxiously he watched every movement of his captor, wishing he could just disappear in the wall behind him.

"OK," Tristan agreed. "It's just a mild sedative. But if you prefer to experience the next phase in complete awareness, that's fine with me."

Reid's heartbeat quickened. This sounded _so_ not good. He was really frightened right now.

"Let's go then," the captor said, his weapon directed at Reid once more.

Hesitantly the young agent got up, bracing himself for whatever Tristan had in store for him.

He was almost at the door, when the other man spoke again.

"Oh, just to let you know... Since you didn't answer my question regarding your sexual preferences, I followed Gideon's assumption. I hope he was right," Tristan announced joyfully.

Reid stopped short, but didn't turn around.

Casually suit-guy added: "Your training partner's name is Jase, by the way."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 19**

Reid tried to walk as slowly as possible. Not that he had much influence on the pace with Tristan's gun pushing into the small of his back.

"Come on," urged his captor as they rushed through the corridor. "Don't wanna keep Jase waiting for too long."

_Jase._

Reid didn't know what to make out of this. Obviously a male name. What had Gideon _told _Tristan? The thought that his former mentor had discussed his love life with this pimp was – euphemistically expressed – unsettling. And what exactly had Tristan meant by 'training partner'? What kind of training? Certainly they weren't going to practice for a spelling bee, as he used to do with his old childhood friend Ethan.

"Here we are," Tristan exclaimed suddenly, forcing his captive's mind back to the here and now. "The door is unlocked," he added and gave Reid another tap with the barrel of the gun.

With shaking hands the agent pushed the door open. Immediately he was shoved into the next white, brightly lit room. This one, however, was much bigger than the previous chamber. The furnishings were different, too.

There was no table and no toilet, but a larger bed with a black metal frame. It didn't appear as ragged as the one in the little spare room. To the contrary, it looked quite comfortable. Almost... _inviting_. The sight caused a very uneasy feeling in Reid's stomach. On the mattress he noticed some colorful 'paraphernalia'. He decided not to look too closely at these dubious items for the moment.

Even more disturbing to him were the chains that were fastened on the ceiling at the opposite side of the room. They hung loosely in the air, dangling innocently.

Suddenly Reid sensed a movement to his left. He hadn't noticed the person next to the door before. He had been too occupied by observing the new location.

"Finally!" the young man exclaimed impatiently. The guy seemed to be about Reid's age. He was slightly shorter, but stronger in physique. He was only wearing black low-cut jeans that matched his short dark hair.

"Hey, how's it going," Tristan greeted him casually. He stepped back from Reid, but was still pointing his weapon at him. Formally he introduced both young men. "Jase, may I acquaint you with Matt." He indicated to the young profiler.

Jase stretched out his right hand to welcome his new training partner. He'd had so many of them – by now it was the most natural thing in the world to him.

Reid couldn't move. Currently, he felt overpowered by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Shrugging, the other young man drew his hand back.

"Looks as if he's a bit uptight, Tristan," he commented skeptically. "Sure he fits in here?" Jase threw the newbie measuring glances.

"Was a short-run decision," the older man admitted. "But I think he's not entirely untalented. After some sessions he'll unbend. I'm optimistic in that respect."

Both Tristan and Jase were now looking at the young doctor. Reid felt like a circus animal.

Finally Jase nodded. "I'll try to warm him up. But no promises."

"It's probably best if I stay here for the first lesson," the older man said thoughtfully. "Just to make sure Matt complies with all requests, you know."

Jase shrugged again. "I don't mind," he murmured indifferently and started to undo the belt of his trousers. Quickly he got rid of the jeans. He didn't wear anything beneath.

Terrified Reid watched him moving towards the bed in all his glory. He turned to Tristan who leaned against the closed door. Smirking.

He turned around again, only to find his so called 'training partner' lying on the soft mattress.

Jase looked at him expectantly. "You coming?"

* * *

The plan was set. Once the raised tempers had cooled down again, the team of profilers and some policemen had gathered again to figure out how to get Reid home safe.

To Morgan's displeasure it turned out that Gideon was going to play a major role in the rescue mission. He had to admit that there was no other way.

It sounded pretty simple: Gideon had already arranged another meeting with Tristan at the same restaurant as the night before. The senior profiler was supposed to 'work' with Reid again.

So all the team would have to do was following the car to the place where Stuart was keeping the genius.

"I don't like this," Morgan grunted when Jason had left the office to get some coffee. He looked at his superior who was scrutinizing the case file. "Seriously, Hotch, we don't know if we can trust him."

"Gideon wants to save Reid as much as we do," the team leader replied calmly.

The younger man started pacing the room. "But do we _really_ know that?" He came to a halt again, waiting for an answer from his boss.

Instead of the team leader it was JJ who responded. "Of course Gideon cares for Spence," she stated firmly. "Reid's like a son to him."

Morgan stared incredulously at the media liaison. "Really?" He asked enraged. "Gideon abandoned Reid to those bastards. What kind of father would do that?"

"That's enough, Morgan," Hotch cut him short. "Whether we like it or not – we have no choice but to trust him."

The younger agent was about to retort something when Gideon entered the office with a mug of coffee in his hands. In order to avoid another quarrel, Morgan left the room – Prentiss and JJ on his heels.

Resignedly the retired profiler sat down. "They're still angry," he expressed the obvious.

Hotch put down the file and looked at his old friend. He sighed. "Sure they are. What did you expect?"

Gideon smiled his all-knowing smile. "But for some reason _you _don't seem to be angry. Why's that?"

Hotch looked away. "It wouldn't do any good to argue," he explained quietly. "Right now, we have to find Reid. Everything else can wait."

Aaron knew that wasn't the real reason for his calm behavior towards Gideon. And, of course, Gideon knew that too.

The older man just continued staring, an attempt to break down his friend's walls by the use of demanding silence.

It worked.

"I had a dispute with Reid," Hotch blurted finally, wondering why he chose Gideon of all people to talk about the burdening incident.

"What was it about?" the older man asked gently.

Absent-mindedly Hotch rubbed his tired eyes. "It was right before he went to meet you," he began slowly. "I...I think he wanted to tell me about it."

"In hindsight I wish he had," Gideon interjected.

"In hindsight I wish I'd have listened to him," Hotch replied. He cleared his throat. "Instead I reprimanded him, told him not to act like a spoiled child...," he trailed off.

Gideon looked closely at the younger man. "Don't blame yourself, Hotch. You couldn't know what was going to happen."

"Right," the team leader agreed curtly. "But that doesn't make it any easier. I suppose you understand that."

Gideon was glad to have his coffee to hold on to, now. "Yeah," he sighed almost inaudible. "I understand."

* * *

Reid was oblivious to his surroundings. Tristan shoved him back into his little room. This time, however, the young profiler hardly felt the gun that pushed into his back.

He'd spent about an hour in the other room with Jase. In the back of his mind he found it amazing that it took only sixty minutes to tear apart a man's world.

Then Reid was alone. He lay on the squeaking bed again. Neither asleep nor awake. As if his brain couldn't decide whether it wanted to rest or stay alert.

The agent tried to think of his team, to recall their faces, their voices.

There was nothing. Only schematic shapes and tones he couldn't arrange in order.

Would his friends come and get him? Would they find him? Reid wanted so badly to see them. But then again... he could hardly bare the thought of facing his teammates again. After all...

Eventually his mind decided to shut down and rest.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine

**Chapter 20**

March the 17th was a lovely early spring day. Around noon the sun had enough strength already to warm up the red-gold lands of the Nevada desert. The pureness of the light blue, cloudless sky was only breached by some impressive black birds that soared gracefully into the air.

No sound disturbed the peaceful silence in this deserted area that was only a few miles away from 'Sin City'.

March the 17th was also the second day of Dr. Spencer Reid's abduction. Around noon he was having his second lesson with his 'partner' Jase. The piercing white light from the ceiling lamps was only clouded by the shadow of a muscular tanned body that was forcing the profiler down onto the soft mattress.

Merely muffled sounds broke through the breathless silence in the secret subterranean room. Sounds that would have been screams, but for the gag in Reid's mouth.

* * *

A few miles away, in the headquarters of the Las Vegas police department, Jason Gideon and his former colleagues were discussing options.

The appointed time for the meeting with Stuart was seven o'clock in the evening. Tristan had agreed to pick Gideon up at the same restaurant they'd had dinner the day before.

"You're sure they will take you to Reid again?" Morgan asked the retired agent. The younger man had still a very unsettling feeling about Gideon's part in the rescue mission. However, since there were only few hours left until the meeting, he decided to suppress his doubts regarding the older man's reliability. For the moment.

"Yeah, that's the procedure," the older man explained wearily. "I work with the new recruits every day until they are 'ready' to do the job. It's not possible to break them during the first session."

At this comment Hotch looked sharply at his old friend. He didn't like at all how Gideon was talking about his 'job' in Stuart's company; as if the psychological torture of young men and women was the most normal thing in the world.

"So all we have to do is follow Stuart's car," Prentiss concluded.

"No." Gideon shook his head.

"Excuse me?" The brunette agent was surprised by the negative response.

"That's not how it works," Gideon went on. Before he got the chance to explain further, Morgan interrupted harshly.

"What do you mean? How dare you to tell us 'how it works'?!" The dark-skinned profiler arose from this chair and started pacing the conference room once again.

"Morgan, calm down," JJ demanded impatiently. The media liaison was not in the mood for pointless outbursts right now. All she wanted was to get back her surrogate 'kid brother'. Very soon and in one piece, if possible.

"So you're okay with his attitude, JJ?" Morgan asked, deliberately talking about Gideon in the third person. As if he wasn't there.

"No, all I'm saying is..."

"Stop it! All of you," Hotch interrupted angrily. He was getting sick and tired of the repeated battles amongst his team. "Your childish quarrels won't help us to find Reid." He paused to emphasize his statement. "And that's ought to be our primary concern now. Right?"

JJ nodded sheepishly. Morgan sat down again, determined to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the day.

Hotch turned to face Gideon. "You think we shouldn't follow the car?"

"At least not directly," the older man agreed. "It's too risky. Tristan is clever and – to put it mildly – pretty paranoid. He will _sense _that something's wrong."

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "So what do you suggest?"

"You give me a transmitter," Gideon replied. "I'll send you a signal as soon as I'm with Reid. Garcia can trace the location."

"No!"

"Morgan!" Hotch exclaimed incredulously.

"No way," the younger agent repeated, no longer caring about his previous vow of silence or other insignificant things, such as code of conduct towards superiors.

Hotch turned to the others. "Give us a minute," he ordered quietly.

Gideon and the women left the office silently. They were almost relieved not to witness the consequent conversation between the two profilers.

Finally alone with his very insubordinate subordinate, Hotch took a seat opposite to his colleague and spoke very calmly: "You can't behave like this, Morgan."

The younger man closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. Not to deny Hotch's saying, but in consideration of this whole damned situation.

"I know," he admitted gently. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Hotch assured. He had no intention of arguing with Morgan now, nor did he have the strength. As senior profiler, however, he did have the duty to hold his team together.

"You know, Gideon is our only link to Reid," he said reasonably.

"Yes," Morgan agreed with gritted teeth. "But he's made it very clear already that his dubious mission is his first priority. Not Reid's safety."

Hotch sighed. "I know that. And I don't like it either," he stated firmly. "But since we have no other choice, we should try to work with him, not against him."

"You're right," Morgan complied eventually. As he raised from his chair, he promised: "I'll try to keep calm until this is over."

Hotch nodded and gave his teammate a small, thankful smile.

On his way out, the younger man ran straight into Gideon.

"Oh, sorry. Everything alright now?" the retired profiler asked tentatively.

"Yeah, whatever. Listen," Morgan began with a cold voice. "If you betray us, if anything happens to Reid under your watch – I swear I will send a bullet right into your forehead."

Gideon stared at him. Taken aback by this high degree of hostility.

The younger man added forcefully: "I'm not kidding, Gideon."

And he left the office to call Garcia. A lot of preparations had to be done before the evening.

* * *

About three hours later, somewhere below the desert Tristan and his employee Jase were talking about their newest recruit's progress.

"How was the third lesson going?" the boss asked curiously while peeling a red apple.

"Not too bad," Jase replied casually. "He was little inactive, but I guess that's part of his personality."

Tristan bit heartily into the fruit. He chewed and thought. "Hm, some guys go for that. Shouldn't be a big problem."

"Not my business," the younger man retorted. "When do you want to begin with the next phase?"

"As soon as possible," his employer said decisively. "Don't want to waste more time than necessary with the boy."

Jase shrugged. He didn't really care about Matt. He was cute, sure, but seemed to be very inexperienced. That made Jase's job a lot harder. To work with him felt like teaching a monkey the alphabet. Kind of draining. Plus, he got nothing in return so far. Ungrateful freak.

When he'd finished his apple, Tristan stood up and moved towards the door.

"I better go and tell Matt about the next step of his training," he told the younger man. "As far as I'm concerned you can call it a day. See you tomorrow."

Both men left the room. On the corridor they separated, walking in different directions.

* * *

Reid lay flat on his back. He wanted to curl up, but each movement caused an overwhelming feeling of nausea. He wanted to fall asleep again, but as soon as he closed his eyes, all the images, sounds and smells he had been forced to experience over the course of the day returned with smashing power.

So Reid remained on his back, staring at the white ceiling.

He heard the door open. He didn't really care anymore who paid him a visit. Nothing could be worse than what had been done to him in this other room, on the other bed.

"Matt, I see you made yourself comfortable," Tristan greeted. His cheerful self again.

The older man sat down on the worn-out mattress next to his silent employee.

"So here's the latest news regarding your, uhm, education," he began, switching into his business-mode again.

The focus of Reid's empty eyes shifted hesitantly to his tormentor.

"You made great progress today, learned a lot of useful things...," Tristan stated almost solemnly. "Therefore I came to the conclusion to let you jump directly to the next phase of the program tomorrow."

Although he hadn't moved, Reid felt bile rising up his throat.

"You will have your first real client," the suit-guy next to him explained. "Now how great is that?"

Reid looked at the ceiling again. Tristan gave him some sort of well-done-slap on the shoulder.

The older man got up again. Before he left the room, however, he broke some more news.

"Oh, almost forgot," he said hastily. "I'm on my way now to fetch your old friend again. I'm sure he will be very proud when he hears about your development."

Reid heard the door being locked again, Tristan's word were still ringing in his ears.

Gideon? Would he come and get him? Out of this hell?

_No_, Reid thought sadly, _he will leave again. It's what he does._


	21. Chapter 21

**Warning for this and the following chapters: Non-con situations.**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 21**

Dead on at seven o'clock in the evening Gideon's cab arrived at the restaurant. He stood in front of the entrance, anxiously waiting for the black SUV to pick him up.

The prospect of seeing his former protégé again caused his heartbeat to quicken. Every ten seconds he rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers and shifted from one foot to the other.

Finally the familiar car bent into the street. As soon as it came to a halt, the retired profiler opened the backseat door and climbed in; with squeaking wheels it drove on towards its destination.

Due to the blindfold that - once again - covered his eyes, Gideon couldn't see where the journey took him. After a while, however, he could _feel_ that something was wrong. They were longer on the road already and the driver was definitely taking different turns than the last time.

He was just starting to wonder if maybe they were taking him to another new recruit when the car stopped. The nameless goon beside him removed the cloth from his passenger's eyes and motioned him to get out.

Gideon blinked several times to clear his blurred vision. He took a look around and noticed quickly that this was not the environment he'd expected. Then he saw Tristan.

The man with the suit was already awaiting him. Seeing the puzzled expression on Gideon's face, he couldn't quite suppress a light laugh.

"Jason!"

"Where are we?" Gideon asked immediately.

"In the desert."

"Obviously," the older man grunted. "But _why_ are we in the desert? I thought I was supposed to work with Reid today."

"Oh, you are," Tristan retorted, still slightly amused. "Your friend is there." He indicated to the ground.

Gideon frowned.

Tristan gave one of his goons a nod. The guy took some steps forward and bent down.

Gideon frowned again.

Then he saw the other man pulling a door open that seemed to be set into the ground.

Quizzically the former agent looked at the man with the fashionable outfit.

In response Tristan walked over to the mysterious portal and started to climb down the steps.

"Follow me," he simply said and moved on.

Hesitantly Gideon approached the hole. He knew he wouldn't be able to send the signal from the underground. However, there was no way he could make a retreat now. For one thing Tristan would become very suspicious, and moreover he had to make sure Reid was alright.

Lacking any real options, he followed his 'partner' into the dark.

* * *

"He should have sent the signal by now, Hotch." Pacing the office.

"He's only a few minutes overdue, Morgan. Give him some time." Staring out of the window.

"I don't like this."

"I know."

* * *

Gideon and Tristan were walking along the corridors side by side, turning to the left or the right every now and again. The older man tried to memorize the route so he wouldn't have to rely on other people if he wanted to get out again.

"What is this place?" he inquired suddenly, breaking the utter silence in this godforsaken maze.

"Fallback option," Tristan replied. "The cops arrested Charlie – in the act, so to speak. I'm sure he didn't tell them anything. But, you know, I don't take chances when it comes to business."

Gideon nodded. So Stuart knew about the detention. Disconcerting. Where the hell did he get that bit of information?

"One murder too many," he commented casually, an attempt to disguise his increasing nervousness.

Now Tristan nodded. "Apparently. But I had to send Balazar a message in a plain language. Best way to do that was to slaughter his over-the-hill whores. I just don't like competition." He paused to draw breath. "Vegas is mine. And I'm not known for my willingness to share."

Gideon knew about the heated rivalry amongst the pimps in Las Vegas. By killing his competitor's prostitutes Tristan wanted to regain exclusive control in the city.

The retired agent was just about to say something in response when the younger man stopped short.

"Here we are," he said cheerfully.

Gideon noticed the door at the left side of the dimly lit hallway. Next to the entry was a tag that said 'Observation'.

Tristan opened the door and gestured his partner to step in.

Inside the older man could see several large screens and a lot of technical equipment.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Gideon was clearly confused now.

"Observe," the younger man replied curtly. "But before we get the show started, I'd like to ask you one question, my friend."

The cold tone in Tristan's voice wasn't lost on Gideon. His stomach knotted almost painfully.

He looked guardedly at Reid's captor.

The man with the suit drew his gun. "Tell me," he began slowly. "Did you enjoy your little get-together with your profiler buddies?"

* * *

"I knew it," Morgan said. He was very agitated now. "I knew he's gonna trick us."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Hotch tried to sooth his colleague. Inwardly, however, he was beginning to regret his decision to trust Gideon. It was taking him far too long to send the signal.

"But if I'm right," the younger agent stressed. "We have no chance to find Reid."

"That's true," Prentiss agreed quietly.

JJ said nothing at all. The media liaison was clutching her mug of coffee as if it was a life line.

"So what are we gonna do?" Morgan looked expectantly at his superior.

Hotch sighed. "Wait for the sign," he said wearily. And when his subordinate opened his mouth to respond, he added: "I know it's frustrating, but have a little faith."

* * *

Gideon felt his heartbeat skip. How did Tristan come to know about his visit at the police station?

He had been so careful.

_Think, Jason, think..._

"It was nice to see them again," Gideon finally admitted. "And they were extremely delighted to see me again." He gave the younger man a conspiratorial smile.

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

The older man went on with his made up explanation. "I knew they would be looking for the boy. Therefore I deemed it a good idea to go and see how far advanced the investigation was." He paused for effect. "You don't need to worry. They have no clue where you're keeping him."

The younger man's eyes narrowed.

"So you're telling me that you wanted to do me a favor," Tristan summarized, not convinced at all.

"You might say that," Gideon affirmed.

"You're not here to take away the kid then?"

"No, I'm here to work with him," Jason stated. "I really don't care how you're going to make use of the boy."

"Really?"

Gideon smiled half-heartedly. "Really. We're partners, remember? Why would I bust my source of income?"

Tristan nodded slowly, apparently weighing his options. He didn't want to lose such a gifted man as a member of his staff. On the other hand, he needed some sort of guarantee that he could rely on his employees. Right now there was only one way to find out...

"I want to show you something," Tristan announced eventually. He took a remote control from the table and pushed the green button.

Gideon watched how one of the big screens lit up. First it was only plain blue but some seconds later a white heading appeared in the center of the monitor.

_**Matt (lesson 1)**_

"What's that?" the older man asked nervously.

Tristan grinned. "Your friend's first practical exercise. Since we're partners, I thought I should keep you posted about his progress."

Gideon felt sick. "You know I'm not much into that stuff," he tried. The thought alone of watching Reid's torture seemed to be unbearable.

"Yeah, but if your words were true, this footage won't bother you at all," the man with the suit and the gun stated slowly. "Maybe you will even enjoy it a bit." A snigger.

Gideon knew what this was about. Stuart was going to watch his reaction to Reid's suffering in order to learn more about his partner's real motives.

"Take a seat," Tristan half-offered, half-ordered and indicated to one of the chairs in front of the screens.

Sighing Gideon sat down. He had to watch the video. And he had to watch it straight-faced. No wince, no hard swallow, no look away. Otherwise Tristan would know he wasn't on the level.

The businessman took a seat next to his partner. "I should have brought some popcorn."

And the black-and-white movie began.

--

_The screen opens on the sight of a big room. The only piece of furniture is a large bed. In the background there are some metal chains hanging loosely from the ceiling. Given the point of view the camera must have been fastened on the ceiling as well. Probably somewhere above the door, since there is no entrance to be seen in the picture._

_At the beginning the room appears to be vacant._

_Then a young man with dark hair comes into sight. A naked young man who moves towards the bed._

_--_

"That's Jase," Tristan commented.

Gideon nodded.

--

_Jase lowers himself onto the mattress and looks in the direction where the door must be._

"_You coming?" _

_Slowly, hesitantly another young man approaches the bed. Reid. He is only wearing dark boxers. As soon as he reaches the edge of the bed, Jase grabs his arm and pulls him down. _

_At first the profiler struggles, tries to get away from the other man._

_Another voice, however, puts an end to the desperate fight. The owner of the voice is not in the field of vision, but easily recognizable. Tristan._

"_Behave yourself, Matt. Otherwise I may change my mind and integrate your loony mother in my business. Some of my clients have weird preferences."_

_After that Reid stops struggling. _

_Jase turns him onto his back. He grabs something from the pile of paraphernalia. Cuffs. He chains both of Reid's hands to the metal bars of the headboard._

_The young man straddles the profiler and bends down to place ever so gentle kisses on the other man's jaw and neck. Reid's face is concealed by his assaulter's body, but soft whimpering noises can be heard._

"_Please, don't," he whispers as the man on top of him lets his lips wander over his chest._

"_You like that?" And there is amusement in Jase's voice. "You'll get more then."_

_His mouth moves further down Reid's body. Licking. Nibbling. Biting. Exploring. Hands start to play with the waistband of dark pants. A rag of cloth serving as the one last tiny bit of dignity that's left._

_A choked sob now._

_A set of relentless fingers wrest that tiny bit away._

_And when the mouth fulfills its final obligation the young doctor can do nothing but turn away his head and close his eyes. He tries to stop the unwanted, but inevitable moaning noises that escape his lips._

_The first lesson takes precisely one hour. One hour of touching and kissing; of teaching and breaking. One hour until Jase finally lets go of what was once the promising genius of the BAU and leaves the room._

_--_

The screen faded to black.

Tristan Stuart turned his head to Jason Gideon who continued staring into the monitor. It was then that the man with the suit and the gun noticed the wetness in his ex-employee's eyes.

He had his answer.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 22**

It was very quiet in the headquarters of the Las Vegas Police Department. Most of the officers had left the bureau hours ago.

It was 2 am now.

Aaron Hotchner and his team were still sitting in the conference room, waiting, hoping against hope that Gideon would give them a sign.

The signal hadn't come yet and the profilers were beginning to doubt seriously that there would ever be one.

Garcia had pulled out all the stops to try and locate the transmitter they'd given to Gideon, to no avail. "Sorry boss, but there's no sign at all," the tech girl had said to Hotch. "It's as if the earth had swallowed him up."

* * *

Some miles away, deep down in the underground, Jason Gideon sat in his very own brightly lit prison cell. After Tristan had seen his reaction to the video, everything had happened very quickly.

"Take him to the room next to Matt's. I'll deal with him tomorrow," the man with the suit and the gun had told two of his goons.

_Matt._

By now Gideon had learned that this was the name they had given Reid. He knew it was part of the recruit's preparation. Take away their identity, beginning with the name.

He let out a sigh as he sat down on the ragged bed. If they had actually locked him in the room next to Reid's, then his young friend was only some feet away on the other side of this massive stone wall. _So close..._

Gideon could hear the goons talking outside the door in the corridors. The walls, however, appeared to be way too thick to allow any sound to pass through.

Reid was probably asleep anyway, the retired profiler mused.

A look at his watch told him that it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. Only few hours more and Tristan would come and kill him – Gideon was sure of that. He was of no use to the man anymore.

Slowly he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Of course, the former agent had no intention of falling asleep, but he needed to shut out the piercing light in order to gather his thoughts.

He wondered what his former teammates were doing right now. Without the signal there wasn't much they _could _do, he thought wryly. Jason pictured Hotch trying to maintain his composure, Morgan cursing in adult language, JJ fighting back her tears and Prentiss searching for a rational explanation.

Their smart plan had gone straight to hell and right now there was nothing anyone could possibly do about it. It certainly hadn't been a _bad _plan, Gideon assessed inwardly. Who could have guessed that Tristan would take Reid to an underground training camp? The aged profiler hadn't even known that this place existed. So no-one could blame him...

But Gideon did. As much as he tried to convince himself that this was not his fault - deep inside he knew better. He'd failed. He cursed himself for letting his emotions show while watching the video.

Tristan was certainly going to kill him now. Not that Gideon particularly cared about his own well-being. The thought, however, that not a soul would be there to spare Reid even more pain and humiliation was simply devastating.

Behind closed lids his eyes began to water again. Even if he survived this, he knew that the images of Reid's suffering would haunt him for the rest of his life. And considering that he'd only seen a glimpse of what had been done to the young doctor.

Gideon rubbed his eyes. He couldn't go down that road now. He had to keep his mind focused on the acute problem. The door to his room would be opened again very soon. And when that time came, he needed to be prepared.

* * *

On the other side Reid cowered at the very edge of his bed, pressing himself against the cold stone wall. His knees were drawn tightly towards his chest and his arms were slung around his legs. He wanted to disappear, but since this was not an option, he tried to make himself as small as possible.

The actual physical pain wasn't that bad. During the third 'lesson' Jase had done some pretty rough bondage stuff with him that had caused deep sores around Reid's wrists and ankles. Apart from the never-ending feeling of nausea, that was about all his body had to endure right now.

He rested his forehead on his arms, trying to think about happier times. It didn't work. Instead his mind drifted back to the things he'd experienced over the last two days. Images of the young man on top of him came back full force, the smell of sweat and fear and lust and something else he couldn't quite define.

And then there were those sounds still echoing in his head. His own whimpering, pleading noises, coinciding with the other man's encouraging and therefore even more disturbing words.

Jase had been so _gentle_.

Reid shivered at the memory of the man's tentative fingers, caressing the bruised skin on the profiler's upper body. In the second 'lesson', as he'd been forced to take a 'more active' part, the young agent had almost wished himself back to his prior prison cell with Charlie.

He would have rather taken another beating than this enforced endearment with a complete stranger who was being paid for that kind of service.

It had been only 48 hours since his abduction. To Reid it felt like ages. Once again he thought of his team. Were they looking for him? Hotch had been so hostile to him in the hotel room. The man he admired so much had said some incredibly mean things. Did his superior even want him back?

Perhaps they all were on their way back to Quantico already, enjoying a quiet flight without a freak responding to questions no-one had ever asked...

Slowly Reid shook his head. He knew this was silly thinking, but the latest events were beginning to get to him.

And there was another unpleasant aspect that was nagging at him in the back of his mind.

What the hell was going on with Gideon?

Reid had already lost track of how many times he had thought about that question during his capture. He tried to find rational explanation for his mentor's contact with Tristan, but it was futile. Each scenario his brain came up with was worse than the other.

What if Gideon was really working for Tristan?

_No, impossible._

What if Gideon was really using his skills to break innocent people?

_Never, you know he would never do something like that._

What if Gideon lured me into a trap?

_Stop it! Don't go there!_

But, what if...

_Shut up!_

Reid lifted his head from his forearms, only to rest it against the wall behind him.

Was that it? The inevitable breakdown?

With shaking hands he rubbed his temples. A throbbing headache was developing behind his eyes. The blinding white light in this room was not helping to ease the pain.

It didn't do any good to think about Gideon, or Hotch or the rest of the team right now, Reid concluded mentally. None of them would come to save him from the 'next phase', as Tristan had put it.

Reid wasn't very experienced in that respect, but he could anticipate what was going to happen in a few hours. He would have to deal with a real client who would expect to get his money's worth.

During his 'training' with Jase the young doctor had been touched and kissed and bound and forced to do things in return. Until now no serious damage had been done – at least not to his body.

Still there was one crucial thing left, one last borderline they hadn't crossed yet.

With a quivering sigh Spencer lay down on his side and curled up, trying to get yet a tiny bit smaller than before.

_Maybe they'll forget I'm even here then_, Reid thought only seconds before sleep finally took him.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 23**

Jason Gideon had never been aware that time was something one could physically _feel_ passing. Now, after spending over seven hours in his underground prison cell, he knew it was possible.

Nothing had happened since they'd locked him in this little room. Every now and again there had been muffled noises - voices probably - coming from the corridors.

All the time Gideon had barely moved. He was still sitting on the bed, leaning with his back against the wall, thinking. Of course, he knew what he had to do. He needed to send this damned signal to Hotch. The details about how he was going to manage that, however, were still a little vague. After all the aged profiler had no idea what Tristan was planning to do to him.

He would have to improvise...

Suddenly he could hear noises, footsteps approaching, people talking. He wasn't able to understand what they were saying, but he was sure that one of the voices belonged to Tristan Stuart.

They seemed to be right in front of his room now. Gideon recognized the sound of a door being unlocked. Not _his_ door, though.

He strained his ears, trying to figure out what was happening.

Seconds of silence.

Then the voices again, not so calm anymore. Gideon could hear people discussing, arguing.

Then...what? Was that a muffled outcry?

_Reid_?!

The former profiler jumped to his feet and stepped close behind the door, pressing his ear against it. He needed to know what was going on.

Only one moment later, however, he had to back away again, because this time it was indeed his door that was being unlocked.

The first thing Gideon saw coming through the door was a gun. Followed by an arm. Followed by the rest of Tristan Stuart.

"Morning, Jason," he greeted casually. "I hope you enjoyed your last night on earth?" He chuckled. "I guess, _below _earth would be a more accurate description."

The only answer was an icy stare.

"Come on, Jason. Don't be like that," Tristan said. "After all, it was you who misused my trust, not the other way around. Therefore, I have every right to be mad at you. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not a resentful person."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was a chance that Tristan was not going to kill him?

"Of course, I have to kill you," his captor stated matter-of-factly and noticed with amusement how the icy stare returned. "But since I'm a generous man, I will let you say goodbye to your little friend outside."

With his weapon Tristan gestured Gideon to move. As the older reached the door, he pressed the barrel firmly into his ex-partner's back and murmured: "Don't try anything, or I will shoot the boy -- right here, right now."

Hesitantly the aged profiler stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

And then he saw him.

Encircled by two of Stuart's goons, Reid stood in the corridor. He looked at his former mentor with wide eyes.

The pressure of the gun in his back increased, and Gideon took a few steps toward his friend. He forced himself to hold Reid's gaze, but he could hardly stand the hurt expression on the younger man's face.

There was so much Gideon wanted to tell him. He wanted to say how much he cared about him, that he was sorry and that everything would be alright -- but he couldn't. He was at a complete loss of words.

The two profilers just looked at each other, both trying to make sense of the situation.

It was Tristan who did the talking eventually.

"Gentlemen," he pronounced cheerfully. "I think it's about time for you to say farewell. Matt has to keep an appointment..." He glanced at his watch. "...in exactly eight minutes. Please hurry."

Reid's eyes darted from his mentor to Tristan, then back to his mentor. His breathing was quick and shallow.

"Gideon?" Spencer's small voice broke the silence. One single word that contained so many questions.

The older man closed his eyes briefly. As much as he wanted to help his friend, he didn't dare to step into action. He knew Tristan wouldn't hesitate to shoot Reid if necessary. Gideon just couldn't take the chance.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, aware how empty these words sounded. It was still the only thing that came to his mind. And it wasn't a lie.

The young doctor didn't reply, but Gideon could see the expression of utter disbelief on his face.

Behind him, Tristan gave a slight nod.

Immediately the two guards grabbed Reid. He tried to pull away, but didn't stand a chance.

"Stop it!" Gideon yelled furiously. "Where are you taking him?" He turned to face his captor.

Tristan smirked as he watched his men drag the struggling boy down the corridor.

"He's going to the lover's suite," he said slowly, as if enjoying each word of this statement.

Gideon could only stare and try not to vomit.

"And you, my friend," Tristan continued and pushed him in the opposite direction of the hallway. "You are going on your final trip to the desert."

* * *

The office of the PD was crowded again. It was past ten o'clock and the morning shift had started to work hours ago.

Aaron Hotchner and his team had spent all night at the station, keeping themselves awake by sipping one coffee after another.

They had tried to figure out a Plan B, but the truth was, they had been totally relying on Gideon. The profilers had not the slightest idea what to do next.

Now they were still sitting in the conference room, more asleep than awake. Morgan, Emily and JJ were resting their heads in their hands, and Hotch just stared into the air, his arms crossed before his chest.

They all jumped when the door was opened and Detective Wolfe stormed into the room.

"Agent Hotchner!" he called excitedly. "Your technician is on the phone, says she got a signal from the transmitter!"

"What?!" Hotch was on his feet in less than a second. So were the others. They ran out of the conference room. Morgan was the first to arrive at the phone.

"Baby girl, tell me you have an address," he urged impatiently.

"Well, address is not the right word," Garcia began. "But I have a location, yes. I'm sending you the co-ordinates as we speak."

"You're the best," Morgan praised and quit the call.

Hotch gathered his thoughts. "Alright. Wolfe get your officers. We're gonna need as many men as available."

The chief detective nodded his agreement and left the group to round up his policemen.

"JJ, I want you to stay here and coordinate our communication with Garcia," Hotch ordered.

"Okay," the media liaison confirmed instantly, although she would have preferred to go with her team members. JJ knew that now was not the time for debate.

"Morgan, Prentiss, you come with me," the team leader determined.

Emily nodded. Morgan clenched his fists. "Let's get our genius back," he hissed through gritted teeth.

The cavalry was on its way.

* * *

Reid had been locked into another room. It was very different from the previous ones. The light was dim and the walls not pure white, but more of an orange shade. There was a bed again, not dissimilar from the one in the 'training room'. There were red and orange cushions neatly placed on the mattress.

Reid shuddered. He was alone. For now. He was also confused; his mind still occupied with Gideon's unexpected appearance in the corridors.

The young agent didn't understand his mentor's involvement in this -- whatever 'this' was.

He was completely out of his depth.

The door opened. Instinctively Reid stepped back from the entry and wrapped his arms around his torso.

Fearfully he watched a man enter the room, though 'man' wasn't exactly the word. The guy looked more like a bear. He was huge; even taller than Reid and about twice as broad as the doctor. Just like Tristan, he was nattily dressed in a business-like suit.

"So you're Matt, I suppose," he stated with a low voice, his eyes greedily scrutinizing the younger man's exposed body.

Reid wanted to back away further, but bumped right into the metal bed frame.

"Oh, you don't wanna waste time," the bearlike man said. He sounded both amused and aroused. "All the better."

Three long steps and he was close enough to get a hold of his prey.

Reid panicked. "Let...go!" he cried and struggled to get away from this man.

Without further ceremony he was picked up and thrown onto the mattress. Lying on his front, the young agent tried to crawl away again, but the stranger was already on him, pinning him down with the full force of his immense weight.

Effortlessly he grabbed both of Reid's wrists with his left hand and held them tightly above his head. Virtually immobilized, the only thing the profiler could do was try to draw breath every now and again. It wasn't an easy task, seeing as his face was pressed into the mattress.

With a lusty groan the man on top reached down toward Reid's boxer shorts. He pulled them down a bit with his free right hand. Just enough...

Reid whimpered. Though it wasn't so much a whimper, but rather an indistinct, muffled noise from deep inside.

"Come on, pretty boy," his assaulter urged, continuing to touch Reid in places he had no right to.

The profiler knew what was going to happen. He wanted his mind to drift away, to shut down, to block out what these unknown fingers were doing to him.

It didn't work.

Then the real pain began to rip through his body. And Reid screamed.

One last time he tried to think of his teammates, not knowing that his friends were already on their way to rescue him. That they were almost there.

And as the minutes passed and the violation continued, the images of their faces began to fade from Reid's mind. He stopped wondering whether they would come or not.

To him, it didn't matter anymore.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

**Chapter 24**

The sky was pure and the sun shone brightly from above. It was one of those rare times when the air temperature was absolutely perfect -- neither too cold nor too hot.

Jason Gideon lay flat on the sandy ground, looking at the cloudless, sapphirine firmament. He thought what a wonderful day this would be, but for the bullet in his right shoulder.

He couldn't move. Too much blood had left his body already, the pain of breathing alone was hardly bearable.

From a distance Gideon could hear the sirens. They were getting louder. The rescue team was on its way.

The aged profiler decided to rest for a little while. He'd done everything in his power to let Hotch know where he was. All he could do now was try to stay awake until his former colleagues arrived.

The howling of the police vehicles and the ambulances was coming closer. Gideon wasn't able to turn his head in their direction, but from the sounds of the different sirens he could tell that they were almost there.

Finally the brain-piercing noise subsided. The aged profiler could hear car doors being opened and shut again and then people shouting excitedly. He tried to distinguish the voices in his mind, hoping that a familiar one would be amongst them, but it was getting hard to focus. The blood loss made Gideon feel increasingly dizzy and disoriented.

His eyes were still staring into the clear blueness of the sky when suddenly a well-known face appeared in his field of view.

"Jason, don't move," Hotch said with his smooth voice.

Gideon blinked away the tears of pain that blurred his vision. He gathered all strength he had left and shifted his gaze to his friend's worried face.

"Help...," he began and was surprised by the rough hoarseness of his own voice. He swallowed laboriously.

"Don't worry, Jason. Help is here," Hotch assured quickly.

As if on cue, some paramedics gathered around the injured man, ready to do their job.

Gideon shook his head barely noticeable. "No," he tried again, never taking his eyes off Hotch. "Reid. Help...help Reid."

The medics were just about to start treating the wounded shoulder, when Hotch motioned them to step back for some more seconds. He leaned closer down to Gideon.

"Where is he, Jason?" the younger man urged. Since the signal had led them straight into the desert, he had already lost hope to find Reid in the close proximity of the transmitter. There were no buildings to be seen nearby. So where could he possibly being kept?

"Hotch!" Morgan suddenly called from a small distance. He was crouching on the soil. "Here's some sort of door, I think."

Puzzled, the team leader looked back at Gideon.

"U...underground," the older man confirmed wearily. He didn't think he would be able to stay conscious much longer.

"Alright, we'll find him," Hotch said firmly. He stood up, giving the paramedics space to help his friend. "Hang on, Jason."

He sprinted to the inconspicuous entry Morgan had detected. Prentiss, Detective Wolfe and a respectable battalion of police officers had already gathered around the door. They were obviously waiting for Hotch to open it.

The unit chied took a print out from the pocket of his SWAT vest. It was a photograph of Tristan Stuart. Garcia had obtained it as soon as Gideon had given away the man's name. Each member of the rescue team was provided with an exemplar.

"Okay, everyone," Hotch exclaimed, holding the photo up. "I want this man arrested. Be vigilant. We don't know what to expect."

The search began.

--

Within minutes the cops turned the underground maze upside down, examining every single room. For Tristan's goons the invasion came completely out of the blue. Some of them tried to flee, others made attempts to fight back, but they were by far outnumbered. The policemen disabled the guards provisionally by cuffing them to pieces of furniture or whatever seemed suitable to prevent them from escaping.

With their guns raised in front of them, Hotch and Morgan went swiftly down the corridor. They rushed wordlessly past the doors that were tagged with run-of-the-mill boy's names.

_Nick._

_Tom._

_Chris._

_Matt..._

Morgan shook his head. "This is taking too long, Hotch. We have to find him soon," he stated impatiently. "What if he..."

A shout, echoing from the inside of one of these rooms interrupted Morgan in midsentence.

"That's Prentiss," he said needlessly.

Hotch was already running in the direction the noise had come from. Only seconds later he was there and stopped short in the door frame. Thomas Wolfe was aiming his weapon at Tristan Stuart, while Emily was busy cuffing the man they'd been hunting.

"We caught him," the female agent said, apparently relieved to see her superior.

With a stony expression, Hotch approached the man with the dark brown suit.

"Where is he?" the senior profiler asked without preamble. The icy tone of his voice made even Prentiss' and Wolfe's flesh crawl.

Tristan looked Hotch straight in the eye. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said cheerfully, a gloating smirk on his face.

He never saw Morgan coming.

Before either of his colleagues could react, the athletic agent grabbed Tristan at the lapel of his fashionable suit and pushed him forcefully against the nearest wall.

"You're gonna tell me where Reid is, or I swear to God I will drag you by your tie 'til we find him," Morgan hissed through gritted teeth, his face only few inches away from the other man's.

Tristan swallowed audibly. The smirk was gone and his eyes looked imploringly past Morgan to Hotch. The older agent, however, made not the slightest attempt to intervene.

Since he really didn't see any alternative, Stuart eventually acknowledged defeat.

"Hallway down, always keep to the left. The room is tagged as 'suite'. Can't miss it," he murmured.

Immediately Morgan loosened his grip.

"You take care of Stuart," Hotch said to Prentiss and Wolfe. "Morgan, with me."

The profilers raced down the corridor. They couldn't afford to waste time. After several turns to the left they finally arrived at the 'suite'.

Panting, Hotch looked at his team member. Both knew they had to brace themselves for anything.

Nothing, however, could have prepared them for the sight that presented itself after they'd opened the metal door.

There was a huge bed.

On the bed, Reid was lying flat on his front.

A large man was crouching above the young agent.

Dumbfounded, he stared at the unexpected invaders. "What the hell...," he exclaimed and moved slowly off the bed.

For a couple of seconds the profilers just stared at the half-dressed guy. The half-dressed guy stared back at the profilers.

Then Morgan glanced at Reid who lay motionless on the mattress. And Morgan freaked out. With an almost animalistic roar he stormed towards the bearlike man. Although his opponent was taller and heavier, the agent was sure he could deal with him without any weapons. He had a black belt after all, and there had never been a better opportunity to use his skills.

For a moment Hotch watched the struggle. He knew Morgan would win this fight. The half-dressed man hadn't attacked them, so there hadn't really been a _need_ to start this fight in the first place. But the team leader understood his subordinate's fury and was willing to turn a blind eye to anything that happened in this room.

Instead he focused on Reid. He stepped quickly to the bed and sat down next to his youngest team member.

It took him a minute to take in Reid's condition. The shallow rising and falling of his upper body was the only movement. There were dark bruises all over his torso...

Images of the beating flashed through Hotch's mind. He had watched Charlie's attack on the screen at the police station. Now that he saw the direct results of the abuse, his stomach knotted painfully.

The senior profiler was also worried about the fact that the doctor wasn't even trying to change his vulnerable posture. It was unlike Reid to just lie there sprawled out, the arms stretched above his head. He was almost naked, his boxer shorts pulled down to his thighs. And there was blood.

This picture didn't leave much to Hotch's imagination. He knew what had happened here. And his heart broke at the thought of what had been done to Reid.

With trembling hands the unit chief pulled up the disheveled underpants. Carefully. He was aware that Reid didn't like to be touched. Most of the time, the genius didn't even like to be looked at. Hotch couldn't imagine what this violation would do to the young man's fragile mind.

He suddenly noticed that the sounds of the struggle behind him had subsided. He turned around to see Morgan pinning the larger man down to the floor. He had won.

"Get him out of my sight," Aaron ordered. In his voice, the loathing against Reid's tormentor was unmistakable. Morgan glanced at his motionless teammate one more time. He suppressed the urge to hurt the whimpering creature on the floor a bit more and pulled him up to his feet.

Hotch watched his agent disappear and concentrated on the silent figure on the bed again.

"Reid," he said quietly, hoping to get any kind of response. There was none. Very gently he turned him around.

Reid's eyes were open, but he didn't seem to see anything. At least he didn't show any sign that he recognized the face above him.

Hotch stroked the strands of hair out of the young profiler's face in a slow motion. He didn't want to scare him any further.

"Reid, it's me, Hotch." He placed the back of his hand on Spencer's left cheek to get his agent's attention.

This time, he succeeded.

Reid blinked once, and finally his eyes moved to meet his superior's steady gaze. Instead of relief, however, an expression of utter confusion flickered across the doctor's face. The older man noticed with concern how his colleague's breathing became quicker and fitful.

"Reid, it's alright," Hotch tried to calm him. "I'll get you out of here."

In a smooth move he wrapped the bed sheet around his subordinate's thin body and lifted him off the bed. Instantly he could feel the younger man tense in his arms. Hotch looked down. Reid's eyes were shut tightly now and he grimaced in obvious pain.

_The slightest movement must hurt him_, the senior profiler mused sadly.

"Hold on, Reid. It's over soon," Hotch soothed as he stepped through the door frame and into the hallway. "You're safe now."


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

**Chapter 25**

It had been two days since the police had stormed the hidden underground labyrinth in the desert. Thomas Wolfe had been a very satisfied head detective afterwards. After all, they had arrested Tristan Stuart and his staff and were at the same time able to set free many young men and women who had been held there against their will.

A happy ending for all concerned.

Almost...

For the second time within 48 hours, SSA Aaron Hotchner was leaning over the porcelain bowl of a public toilet, throwing up his marginal stomach contents. The day before it had happened in the Las Vegas PD, after he'd watched some of the tapes they'd found in Stuart's 'Observation Room'.

The team leader of the BAU had insisted on leading the first interview with Reid's captor. Very quickly, Tristan Stuart had spilled the beans and revealed the name he'd given the young agent.

Hotch had watched the videos that were tagged as 'Matt's lessons' together with Morgan. He hadn't wanted JJ and Prentiss to see that – for the women's sake as well as for Reid's.

The two agents had watched their colleague's ordeal in silence, both too terrified to find the right words. Afterwards, Morgan had chosen to go for a walk, while Hotch had spent the next hour in one of the bathroom stalls.

Now, one day later, the unit chief found himself in exactly the same position. This time, however, he was hanging over a toilet in the hospital. For the first time since they'd brought Reid to the ER he had entered the building again. The doctors had told him to give the injured man some time to rest. They had said he wouldn't recognize any visitors anyway – the trauma he'd suffered was too deep.

According to the doctor's advice, Hotch had waited a while before visiting his subordinate.

Today was the day he was going to see him.

Cold sweat covered his forehead. With closed eyes, the senior profiler leaned back against the cold tile wall. He had lost it. As soon as he'd set foot in the hospital, the images of Reid lying broken on the bed had come back with overpowering force. Hotch had made it to the nearest bathroom just in time.

Slowly the agent stood up. He flushed away the remains of his scanty breakfast and left the stall. With shaking hands, Hotch splashed some cold water in his face. He drew one more deep breath and left the bathroom.

First he wanted to go and see how Gideon was doing. He had lost much blood, but the gunshot wound in the shoulder had turned out to be a rather uncomplicated injury. In surgery they had removed the bullet and had given him some blood to stabilize the circulation. Hotch had spoken with his doctor on the phone and had been assured that Gideon was round the corner.

The team leader wandered down the hallway of the traumatology ward, looking for Room 23 where his former colleague was supposed to be resting.

There it was. Hotch knocked lightly at the door and entered the room. To his surprise, Gideon wasn't resting at all. The older man was standing in the middle of the chamber, fully dressed with a sling holding up his arm.

"Jason, I don't think you should be walking around already," Hotch said and watched his old friend packing his bag. He frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I don't feel like lying in bed anymore," Gideon replied casually, while folding his clothes. He looked at Hotch. "You are pale."

"Yeah, I...uhm," the younger man started, still confused to see the older man on his feet.

Gideon continued fiddling with his stuff. He moved very slowly, careful not to make any sudden motion. Every now and again he winced in pain.

"Jason, you should lie down," Hotch exclaimed and stepped closer to his friend who was struggling to press all clothes into the small travel bag. Again he asked: "What are you doing?"

"I'm packing," Gideon answered curtly, but truthfully. "So, did you talk to Stuart?"

"Yes," the younger man replied equally brusquely, irritated by the sudden change of subject. He crossed his arms before his chest and scrutinized the injured man who was now zipping the bag up. "I was wondering why he didn't kill you straightaway. Very unlikely that he missed your heart accidentally."

Gideon nodded. "He wanted me to bleed out slowly. Tristan Stuart takes pleasure in seeing other people's suffering." He paused a second to find the right words. "I guess in this case, he just wanted to punish me for my disloyalty. I'm glad he chose to kill me slowly. Gave me the opportunity to send you the signal."

"Yeah, we were lucky," Hotch agreed, but the words tasted bitter. He cleared his throat. "Did you pay Reid a visit already?"

Hadn't he been the skilled profiler he was, Aaron would've missed the tiny moment when Gideon froze.

Instead of giving an answer, the older man walked around the bed and picked something from the nightstand. Gideon moved back to Hotch to hand it over.

Suspiciously the BAU leader glanced down at the envelope. Spencer's name was written on it.

He stared incredulously at his old friend.

"No. Jason, no."

"Please give it to him, Hotch." Still holding up the letter.

"No, I won't give it to him. You will go and talk to him face to face," the younger man demanded sternly.

Gideon's gaze dropped. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna distress him," the older man said ruefully.

The team leader was furious. "Not distress him? Are you kidding me?"

"Please, Hotch. Don't make this harder than it is already."

"Hard? For whom? You are a coward, Jason."

"You're right."

There were several seconds of silence.

"Don't do this," Hotch pleaded quietly.

Gideon shook his head. "I'm sorry."

He put the envelope on the bed. With his functioning arm he picked up his bag and left without another word.

For a few minutes, Hotch just stood there, staring at the innocent looking piece of paper on the bed. He couldn't believe that Jason had just done this. Again. The senior profiler knew how hard his secret leaving had hit Reid last time. Now, with all that had happened...

Numbly the agent took the envelope and left the room.

* * *

Two floors above, everything looked pretty much the same like in the previous ward. Just as Hotch arrived at Reid's room, the door went open and a nurse almost bumped into the agent.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said smiling. "Can I help you?"

The near-collision had been enough to bring Hotch back into the here and now.

"Yeah, I'd like to see my agent." He gestured towards the door. "I...um, I was wondering how he's doing."

The smile on the nurse's face faded. "Not so good. His physical wounds are only minor. He needed some stitches, but it should be all right soon," she explained in a professional, yet sympathetic manner.

Hotch nodded.

"The main problem is that he's not responding to anyone. After two days...," the nurse trailed off. Instantly she put her smile on again. "He probably just needs to see a familiar face." She touched Aaron's arm in a reassuring gesture and walked away to look after her other patients.

The team leader stepped into the room without knocking. He swallowed hard. Once more he found Reid lying motionless on a bed. This time, however, the young man was on his back and covered with a thin white blanket. To Hotch, he looked incredibly small.

He sat down on the only chair next to the bed and just looked at his colleague for a minute. Reid was obviously awake. His eyes were open, staring at a random spot on the ceiling. He didn't seem to notice that his boss had come to visit him.

At first, Hotch wasn't quite sure what to say. Nothing appeared appropriate for that kind of situation. Finally he decided to tell Reid all about the investigation, about their strained search, about Gideon's involvement. The profiler could only imagine how confused the young doctor must be about his mentor's actions.

About thirty minutes the older agent kept talking, without getting any reaction.

"As you can see," he concluded his monologue. "Gideon was only trying to help. He never meant to get you into trouble."

And finally Reid did something. His hands tightened their grip around the bedspread and very slowly he turned his head to face his superior.

The injured man licked his lips before asking: "Where is he?" It was barely a whisper. "Gideon?"

Hotch closed his eyes, trying to force back the tears. "He's not here, Reid. He...he had to go."

If possible, the younger man's eyes widened even more.

His superior pulled the envelope out of his pocket, hoping that Gideon had at least found some comforting words for his former protégé. He gave it to Reid.

Miserably the young doctor looked down at the letter.

"Do you want me to leave?" Hotch asked cautiously. This was one of the rare occasions where he really didn't know what to do.

Reid merely shrugged.

Hotch stood up hesitantly. "I better leave you alone for a few minutes. But I'll stay nearby in case you need me."

Reid heard his boss closing the door from the outside. With shaking fingers he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

He scanned it.

--

_Spencer,_

_I'm aware that the word 'sorry' is the last thing you want to hear from me. So I won't say it._

_No-one should suffer the things you did._

_In fact, you're the last person in the whole world I want to see in pain. Yet it is me again who hurts you so badly._

_I don't expect forgiveness or even understanding, but I need you to know how much I care about you._

_You are strong. Strong enough to survive this. You've proven already that you can't be broken easily. You made it once, you can make it again._

_I have faith in you._

_Take care,_

_Gideon_

--

It took Reid only few seconds to read the letter. He read it a second, then a third time, hoping that he could detect something..._more_ if he just looked often enough. There was nothing more. That was it, no matter how many times he would read it.

He leaned back into his soft pillow, with both hands still clutching the meaningless piece of paper. Almost unconsciously he started to crumple up Gideon's letter with his fingers.

Reid turned his head to look out of the window.

The sun was shining. It was a lovely day.

END


End file.
